Georgia On My Mind
by RBGzMom
Summary: Canon/AU: Explore the campaign trail with Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III clearly focused on winning the White House with full white hat Olivia Pope at his side. The real Gladiators fight off evil and the unworthy get exactly what they deserve. I do not own anything. I am only here to indulge my Olitz utopia.
1. Chapter 1

**Georgia on my Mind**

 **AN: As promised I brought all the updates for this canon correction into their own story. I will revise the one-shot collection to reflect the change. Thank you for your reviews and encouragement. This version would not be possible without all of you.**

 **Canon compliant until the diner**

"I can't do this anymore," Mellie offers despondently pushing her plate away and sitting up straight.

"Mellie," Fitz questions hesitantly. _She is going off script._

"I cannot pretend anymore," her voice is shaky and filled with tears. She turns to the gathered patrons. "I know you have sensed the distance between us, but the campaign is stressful and my body couldn't handle it and we lost our child…"

Fitz listens to her well rehearsed lie. His political brain knows beyond a shadow of a doubt Mellie's performance will secure the women's vote he needs to win the nomination. Fortunately his heart is stronger. The incredible woman he loves is watching. He was a coward before she walked into that Iowa auditorium but not any longer.

"Stop…enough," he shouts. He turns to the shocked patrons in the audience. "I am sorry you have been subjected to this reprehensible performance. There was no miscarriage because there was never a pregnancy."

Fitz turns back to her shaking his head. "I no longer know who you are…this is low even for you. I want to serve the American people, but I refuse to sacrifice all of my integrity to win. I made myself clear…my campaign will be clean and above board-win or lose."

The room is deadly silent. He observes the stunned faces of campaign staff, the reporters furiously taking notes while the cameras continue to record footage. _We will definitely win the news cycle._ He stands abruptly and exits the establishment. Half of the press pool follows him shouting questions: "Did you plan this together? Do you think your marriage will survive?"

The other half of the press pool rushes forward and traps Mellie at the table. "Why would you lie? Where you pregnant by someone other than your husband? Where the affair rumors true?" Mellie stares at the vacated space next to her. She searches the crowd desperately for Cyrus or some senior campaign staff. The truth lands like a boulder in her gut-she is on her own. The political risk she took exploded in her face and for the first time Fitz left her alone to handle the collateral damage.

* * *

Olivia stands sentry in front of the campaign bus door addressing the clamoring reporters. "Look, I know this is the hottest political story of the moment; maybe even the year, but you have to give me time. Every one of you owes me at least one favor. Give me two hours…deal?"

They all nod reluctantly as she climbs on board. The scene on the bus is exactly what she expects: Cyrus rants dramatically his faced flushed and his arms flailing. Fitz stands silently at the end of the aisle facing the wall with his hands laced on top of his head. She speaks breaking the tension, "I bought us two hours. We have enough time to develop a new strategy and game plan." _I cannot believe this man._

Cyrus turns sharply, "A new…we do not come back from this." He turns back to Fitz shouting, "Why now…you have lied and pretending for as long as I have known you…now that the White House is within reach you develop a conscience-this makes no damn sense," he drops dramatically into the closest seat.

"That's it," she exclaims, "You hold a press conference and you continue to tell the ugly truth. You can no longer be the politician that maintains the status quo. You will be different because the American people deserve better. Grant for the people-a man of the people."

Fitz turns slowly and allows his eyes to take in her demeanor. Her eyes dance with excitement and he can almost see the sparks firing from her brilliant mind. "Yes, this is how we win-let's prep," a smile animates his entire face. _She is on my side. I already won._

* * *

"Governor Grant, we are all set up. Remember to take a breath before responding to each question. We don't want this to look and sound rehearsed," Olivia coaches in a professional tone.

"Got it…you are going to be there-by my side," he asks with hope.

"Of course, every circus needs a lion tamer," she teases. They both share a laugh. The bus door opens and Olivia exits and moves to the side followed by Fitz who stands behind the traveling podium covered in microphones.

"Thank you for coming. I will answer as many questions as I can, but my time is limited based on our itinerary," Fitz opens the press conference.

"Governor, did you know in advance that your wife was prepared to lie? Governor, are you afraid this may cost you the nomination? Governor what was your wife hoping to accomplish? Governor, how will your wife's campaign stunt affect your marriage?" The reporters shout over each other.

Fitz holds up his hand to stop the onslaught of questions. "First, I was not nor were any off my staff aware of her intentions. She acted alone. You need to ask her what she hoped to accomplish. I am a man of the people and they deserve a politician willing to tell the ugly truth and not maintain the status quo because it is convenient. I trust the voters to choose the most qualified candidate with the best ideas, proposals and policies to improve their life. Her choice to manufacture a lie of that magnitude is not simply a campaign behavior; but a reflection of her core principles-principles I do not share. Thus, I directed my personal attorney to file the documents necessary for a legal separation. She no longer speaks for me or on behalf of my campaign," he checks his watch. "Thank you for your time, but we need to get on the road to our next campaign event," he ascends the steps and moves toward the back of the bus.

Olivia waits patiently as questions are shouted at her. _Now is the time for the optics to seal the deal._ She has a staff member remove Mellie's bags from the luggage compartment and hand them to the hotel staff. "Is that Mrs. Grant's luggage? Is she literally being kicked to the curb? Will she return to California?"

"As the Governor explained Mellie Grant is no longer part of this campaign. Therefore, none of the Grant campaign staff can speak on her behalf nor do we have any information on her next course of action. You will have to speak to her directly. This concludes our press briefing. See you at our next stop," she turns to enter the bus.

* * *

They travel down the interstate in silence. Most of the staff sleeps while a small contingent monitors websites, news outlets, and social media to determine the public's reaction to the recent chain of events. Olivia's mind and heart compel her down the aisle to occupy the seat next to Fitz. "Governor Grant, I can move things around if you need time or," her sincere offer is interrupted.

"I am looking down at myself wondering how I let things get this far. Why was I such a coward before you showed up," he stares at her beautiful profile.

"Governor, I do not think your choices have anything to do with me," she responds firmly.

"You and I both know they do. I am trying to earn your vote," he flirts shamelessly.

She giggles in spite of herself, "Well you definitely have my attention."

"Good to know…now what would it take to get you to say my name?" he implores seductively.

Olivia's head snaps towards him and he wiggles his brows playfully. She laughs fully, "You are incorrigible…Fitz," his name is a whisper on her breath.

His heart stops and begins to beat in earnest for her alone. Fitz slides his hand from his lap to the space between them and he holds his breath. They exhale in sync when her hand joins his and their fingers intertwine. In this moment everything makes sense. Every heartbreak and life disappointment has led them to each other-and they refuse to let go of what it possible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part II}

The campaign arrived at the non-descript hotel in the pre-dawn hours. Staff members drag their exhausted bodies to their assigned rooms.

"Prayer breakfast at 5:00 am Cyrus," Olivia calls out.

"Great, I can already feel the holy water burning my pagan flesh," he jokes entering his room.

Olivia chuckles and stops in front of her door. She can feel the simmering heat from Fitz's body behind her.

"Just go in your room and we will pretend nothing happened," he offers without prompting.

She is at war with herself. Her head knows he is right but her heart and soul are alive for the first time. How does she walk away from the truth-Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III is the love of her life. She takes a deep breath and calls forth all her strength to enter her room.

Fitz watches the door close and he deflates. He knows he said the right thing and she did the right thing but it all feels so wrong. He enters his room at the end of the hall and slumps against the closed door. The ringing of his phone startles him out of his personal pity party. He looks at the caller id and his entire being vibrates with joy. "Hi," he answers in anticipation.

"Hi," her smoky voice responds. There is a palpable, electric connection as they hold their phones in silence. Olivia finally speaks, "Do not think for one moment that I do not want you…that I will not toss and turn tonight wondering how it would feel to give myself to you. But we have a real chance and we cannot waste the possibility of what we could be," she explains.

"So we are in this together…I am not alone? What I feel when I am with you-you feel it too?" he questions urgently.

"Yes, but everything is on the line. Not just the campaign… You said it yourself-we cannot sacrifice all of our integrity. Us-together cannot survive that kind of moral complication."

"You said us-together. We are The Team," he re-states emphatically. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

She is quiet. _Cyrus will hate the new dynamic and fight back viciously._

Reading her mind, "Cyrus will learn to adjust," he concludes.

She laughs, "He definitely will not…it will be a fight, but I think we can handle him."

They return to comfortable silence. "Take off your clothes," Fitz commands.

"Excuse me," she exclaims.

"We are doing the right thing, but I will not leave you wondering…take off your clothes," he directs forcefully.

She turns the phone to speaker before placing it on the bed. "I am stepping out of my shoes and unzipping my pants so that they can fall to the floor. I am taking my hair down and unbuttoning my blouse. Now I am lying on the bed in my white bra and panties," her voice is low and seductive.

Fitz lies back on the bed resting his head on his bent arm. "I would caress every inch of your buttery soft skin…first with my hands and then with my mouth and tongue. I would gaze at your hot, wet core until you were panting with need. I would remove your wet, white panties with my teeth before plunging my dick into you with a firm deep stroke. I would bite your ripened nipples through your bra before removing the garment and suckling until you call for mercy. I would hold your thighs against my waist to maintain a deep, sensual rhythm. I would not stop. No matter how tight your walls squeeze me. I would not stop until your orgasms crash against each other and you die a million small deaths."

Olivia's panties are drenched and she is writhing on the bed, "Oh…my…God," she pants.

"Sleep tight Livvie," he disconnects the phone with a smile on his face.

* * *

Mellie is a prisoner in her hotel room. A horde of reporters are camped in the lobby waiting to attack with questions she cannot answer. She needs a plan and a team. She picks up her phone and dials, "You have to help me," she greets rudely.

"Well hello to you. Why would I help…you are toxic-which is bad for my brand."

"Look you bastard, I know every skeleton in the Grant family closet. If you do not help I will expose every single one. Not only will your boy lose the nomination but your Reagan like reputation will be ruined," she threatens.

"Fine, I will send someone but if I were you I would not get my hopes up. You thoroughly fucked yourself. What happened…How did he get his balls back?" Big Jerry chuckles in response.

"Shut up! I am warning you…If I don't have a new game plan by tonight I will be in front of the cameras in the morning," she disconnects the call.

* * *

 **A month or more later…**

The campaign event at the local homeless shelter follows the standard script: photo op of serving meals and talking with program participants. Fitz was going through the motions when he noticed the young man with the basketball. He walks away from the pool of reporters. "What's up?" he greets.

The African American teenager responds with the typical head nod.

Fitz is not discouraged, "How about a game of 21?"

The young man shrugs from underneath his hoodie, "I guess." They make their way out of the side door.

They had been playing for almost thirty minutes when Cyrus interrupts, "Sir, we have a schedule…" he trailed off pointing to his watch.

"Move things around…I am about to school Quincy," Fitz's laughs in response.

"Yeah right old man," the teenager mocks.

The cameras are rolling and the reporters are buzzing. "Wow, I have never seen this version of Governor Grant." "This isn't an act." "Who knew this guy existed." "Man of the people-indeed." "If he is this free one month without the wife; imagine him during the general election." "This is definitely Grant 2.0."

Olivia stands back watching the scene unfold. _This is who he really is-could he be anymore perfect._

* * *

The core campaign team enters the ballroom for the high donor fundraiser extremely late but the attendees still stand and cheer. The video of Fitz's pick-up basketball game went viral and garnered attention from unlikely Republican voters. #He's Got Game and #Grant 2.0 were trending and Millennials were taking notice. The Republican National Committee officials were excited. "Governor Grant may we have a moment?" the chairman waved him over.

"Gentlemen, so nice to see you again," Fitz greets politely.

"You have had a busy, unpredictable campaign thus far. The unfortunate incident with Mrs. Grant and the excitement of today," he offers as a conversation starter.

The vice chairman piled on, "I must say Cyrus is making some bold moves."

Fitz took a deep breath and assessed the group. The gray hair, standard blue suit with red tie-this was his father's party. He had no intention of playing the role they designed for him any longer. He thought carefully before speaking, "Actually, what you have witnessed is a result of my choices-alone. As far as the new strategy," he points across the room.

Olivia was engaging donors and charming the room effortlessly. "Olivia Pope, the finest political mind in the business."

The men glance over, "Really…Interesting," the each respond.

"Yes, she is extremely astute and I am lucky to have her," he replies. "Now, if you will excuse me I have some hands to shake," he exits the conversation.

The men turn to each other, "I wonder if Cyrus knows he is no longer in charge."

"This campaign will be entertaining to say the least," the other offers before they re-join the festivities.


	3. Chapter 3

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part III}

 **Two months or more later…**

"Billy Chambers what is going on with the Grant campaign," Sally Langston shouts across campaign headquarters.

"I am looking into in Ma'am," he responds.

"Looking into it…you said his campaign would collapse after that fiasco with his wife…you said the Republican Party faithful would never vote for a man going through a divorce. Not only are they voting for him but he is bringing in Millenials, Blacks and Independents…he is remaking the party and the Republican establishment loves him. This is not part of God's plan for me, Billy-fix it," she commands.

* * *

Fitz sits across from the stunning, statuesque Afro-Latina woman, "Go ahead…you have been waiting years to say it," he encourages.

"I told you so…I warned you, but no. What did you say?" she fires back with glee.

"This is how the game is played," he mumbles in embarrassment.

"And what did I tell you?" she mocks.

"Change the game," he replies reluctantly.

"Well, I am glad you finally took my advice," she states with a smile.

"Now that you have had your fun; can we discuss my divorce?" he implores.

"Not that you would be surprised but she is challenging everything. The pre-nuptial agreement-mental distress; the first settlement offer-custody stipulations; and she demands face to face deliberations and mediations."

"I am running for President of the United States. I do not have time…wait, mental distress. Is she admitting she is crazy? And what custody issue could she have? She made sure both kids were locked away in boarding school as soon as they were potty trained," he rants.

"Between you and me-I think she wants to play the martyr to your privilege and patriarchy. The usual entitled white woman trope," she shrugs.

"Really?" his brows knit together in confusion. "Hold on," he picks up his phone and sends a text.

Olivia enters his office twenty minutes later. "Olivia Pope this is Jessica Pearson…she is handling my divorce," he introduces. They ladies smile and greet each other.

Olivia dives in, "So Mellie wants to try and hide behind a feminist banner. In order to do that she will need to re-invent herself; which means she has a book deal or prime time interview or both," she thinks aloud.

"With her credibility problem who would believe her," Fitz counters.

"First, she is counting on you and the campaign not to react or respond; in an effort to keep the focus on your platform. Second, she needs a sympathetic character witness the public will not or cannot attack. Can you think of anyone?" she turns to him.

"Your son," Jessica introduces and reminds them she is still in the room.

"What…why…what makes you think," he trails off with a broken heart.

"He asked for a deal when I met with him and Karen in California. Obviously, Mellie met his demands," she offers apologetically.

Olivia watches Fitz's crestfallen face as Jessica shares her exchange with his son. _I can fix this._ The room is quiet before she leaps into action with her weapon of choice-cell phone.

"Abby, Mellie is shopping a book deal and looking for a primetime interview. Get the details and meet us in Houston." CLICK

"Harrison, your probation is over-right? Good, I need you in Cali yesterday…play hardball with Fitz's son-find out what he wants and why." CLICK

"Huck, I need an updated kill file on Mellie. No…not how to kill her; information to silence her once and for all." CLICK

Olivia turns to him, "Anything else Governor?" she winks.

He laughs, "Nope, sounds like you have everything handled."

"Nice to meet you Jessica," she extends her hand before exiting the room.

The door closes and Jessica turns to Fitz with a mischievous glint in her eye, "She's the one…the incredible women you declared your love for during the debate," she teases.

Fitz blushes, "I do not know what you are talking about."

Jessica laughs loud and hearty, "She is going to wear your old ass out." They both erupt in laughter.

* * *

Elizabeth North cannot believe her good fortune. When she received the call from Big Jerry she thought for sure she would be able to become part of the inner circle on his son's campaign. Everyone who was part of GOP politics wanted a seat at the table. However, what Big Jerry offered was better-the recently disgraced and desperate Mellie Grant and all the Grant family secrets. Armed with that information she could leverage her position all the way to the Republican National Committee. Fitz was remaking the party and Big Jerry would kill to maintain his reputation. All Liz had to do was exercise patience and play her cards well. She dialed a familiar number, "Mellie, how is the writing going," she greets.

* * *

Cyrus runs his fingers through what is left of his hair. He re-plays the most recent events from the campaign in his mind repeatedly. _When did I lose control?_ Of course he was caught flat footed by Mellie's miscarriage stunt-they all were; but he recovered and managed the new strategy. Sure, he was not a complete believer in the new outreach efforts to non-traditional Republican voters; however, he doubted anyone really noticed. Then it hit him-all the new aspects of the campaign were the brainchild of Olivia Pope. He brought her on board, she was his protégé. They had been joined at the hip but now there was a new Team.

"Alright, this was a good meeting. We all have a lot of work to do-so use your time wisely," Fitz closes the staff meeting.

Cyrus moves against the tide of people exiting the room. "Governor, I need a moment."

"What is it Cy?" Fitz responds while organizing the stack of papers in front of him.

"We need to sit down with Hollis Doyle," he introduces. Cyrus knows this will be a hard sell. Hollis and Big Jerry go way back and Fitz made it extremely clear: Big Jerry and anything attached to him would not be part of his campaign.

Fitz stops moving, "Why do I need to sit down with him? He wrote a check. Do we make a habit of meeting with all of the donors one-on-one?"

"No Sir, but he did not write the average size check," Cyrus counters.

"Exactly…which means he definitely should not get special treatment."

"With all due respect…this is how the game is played."

Fitz halts the rest of his statement by raising his hand, "When are you going to accept the new playbook. This is no longer the old Republican Party or for that matter…old school politics."

Cyrus stares in disbelief and blinks rapidly. He has made a lot of promises and called in favors from people who expect a return on their investment. He cannot return to them empty handed. His role with the Grant campaign afforded him unprecedented power that he would not surrender without a fight. He needs time and a plan to get Fitz back under control.

* * *

The majority of the staff retired for the evening. Olivia continued to work tirelessly in her office to the soundtrack of Stevie Wonder. Her hips circle and sway as she updates polling data bulletin boards, revises press materials and reviews the calendar for upcoming campaign events. Fitz watches from the doorway leaning against the frame. _She is a goddess._ He glides into the room and slides his hands on to her hips while leaning down to whisper in her ear, "May I have this dance?"

She freezes and turns slowly to face him. Her breathing is quick and shallow, "Governor, this is extremely inappropriate," she flirts.

"I agree, but at least we keep our clothes on," he winks. They fall into laughter.

Olivia steps out of his embrace and moves back to her desk to select a different track. "Show me your moves," she challenges. _**Signed…Sealed…Delivered**_ pours out of the speakers as Fitz dances toward Olivia. She tries to maintain some composure but it is useless. She is in love and damn giddy about the whole thing. _He is absolutely adorable._ A wide smile breaks across her face and a bubble of giggles erupts from her mouth. She gives up the struggle and meets him on their dance floor. Fitz leans into her face with a dazzling smile…she grabs his tie and they continue to boogie together in the world they created for their love.


	4. Chapter 4

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part IV}

 **Two weeks later**

Huck, Abby and Harrison wait in a modest, non-descript banquet room of a local restaurant. "Does this even meet the minimum standard for coffee? I don't even think this is Sanka," Harrison complains and grimaces.

"This pie crust does not have enough butter, the filling came out of a can, and does someone have to die before nutmeg is used," Abby scolds.

Olivia opens the door barking orders into her phone with Governor Grant on her heels chuckling and shaking his head. _Is there nothing she cannot do?_ She drops her tote into a chair, ends her call and smiles at her team, "What you got?"

They glance at the Governor hesitating to speak freely. "Look Guys…we're The Team…the inner circle…give up the goods," she directs.

Huck does not make eye contact, "Governor Grant, are you sure you want this?" he asks quietly. Every head turns to Huck; their eyes glazed with apprehension.

Fitz inhales deeply, "I need this…I have to know, he looks at Liv. I plan to spend the rest of my life standing in my truth; reaping the benefits of the freedom only truth allows."

Never looking up Huck opens the file on his laptop and projects the content onto for the whole group to view. A word document and plethora of pictures cover the plain white wall. "Mellie is writing a tell-all book that paints her as a victim of a political family. She shares all of the Grant family details and secrets in the worst possible way, including your mother's death. (Huck begins highlighting grainy pictures detailing who Mellie has been during their marriage.) I don't know if toe sucking counts as an affair but if definitely happened. She also had affairs with the Lieutenant Governor and Senator Grant. Based on the on the times I suggest paternity tests," Huck's voice lacks sympathy or empathy.

Olivia motions toward the door with her head as everyone makes a hasty retreat. "This is never getting out so the paternity tests are not necessary. You don't have to stay for the rest of this…I meant what I said. I will eat, sleep and breathe Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III which means I will protect you-especially your heart." _This bitch is dead. I am putting her ass six feet under._

His entire existence is a myth, a lie, an orchestrated fantasy. All of the ways he defined himself are not real. He knew the marriage was a sham, but now he is forced to admit he was living in an alternative universe. In this moment he feels as if he could evaporate because there is nothing holding him together. Fitz is frozen in his chair with his eyes fixed on the table in front of him.

Olivia strides over and stands behind him. She gently places her hands on his shoulders and slides them down his chest resting one hand over the other covering his heart. "You are their father and I cannot wait for our babies to meet you," she whispers in his ear. She kisses the top of his head and waits patiently.

Her declaration and the comfort of her loving touch pulls him back together. "Protect Jerry, Karen, and my mother's legacy at all costs. We will use this information plus the pre-nuptial agreement to expedite and finalize the divorce before the general election. Our first date will be the Inaugural Ball," he rasps out with his voice gaining strength. He rises from his seat and turns to her. His loving gaze absorbs every inch of her. _This is the beginning of the rest of our lives._ Fitz steps past her and opens the door, "Let's get back to work," he calls.

They re-enter the room and return to their seats. Harrison clears his throat, "Mellie agreed to give Jerry early access to half his trust fund and a Maserati for his 16th birthday. In exchange, he will request his mother be granted sole custody and he will back up her story in print and televised interviews…No real reason other than-and I quote, 'Big Jerry said never walk away from any deal empty handed'."

 _This is why I hate Republicans._ "I guess I'm up," Abby inserts herself into the discussion. "Elizabeth North negotiated with two publishers for the manuscript and they are currently in a bidding war. Every network and cable outlet has extended an offer for the exclusive with their franchise anchor."

Huck chimes in, "Big Jerry sent the blonde lady based on Mellie's demand and I corrupted the manuscript if anyone tries to open or distribute the file."

Olivia paces back and forth, "Abby let the networks and cable outlets know the consequences of ruining their relationship with the probable Republican nominee and potential President-Elect. Tell the publishers their chance to bid on an upcoming memoir will die."

"Liv, schedule a high profile campaign event for my sperm donor and me. I will leverage the event for his silence and cooperation from this day forward," Fitz directs with a menacing tone.

"I will handle Elizabeth North," Olivia responds crisply.

Fitz turns to the others, "I don't know if this is the appropriate or best way to demonstrate appreciation but would you be interested in becoming Senior Advisors for the Grant campaign?"

They glance at one another before responding in chorus, "Over a cliff."

* * *

 **Three weeks later**

Elizabeth North strides down the hallway of the Grant campaign headquarters for her meeting with Olivia Pope. When she received the call she could barely contain her excitement. She had all the ammunition she needed to guarantee membership within the inner circle or leverage her way to the RNC Chairmanship she coveted. Bringing Olivia down several notches would be icing on the cake. She opens the office door without knocking. "Olivia, so nice to see you again," she states smugly.

"Actually it's not, but let's handle this matter," Olivia snaps from her seat behind her desk.

Elizabeth places her hand on the back of the chair in front of Olivia's desk to slide it back before sitting.

"Stop…you will not be here long enough to warrant a seat. Random House and Regnery Publishing have retracted their offers. The networks and the cable outlets are no longer taking your calls. We aren't hiring and the RNC will never be interested. I hope you budgeted Big Jerry last payment because you are officially unemployable in politics." Olivia folds one hand over the other on top of her desk. Her eyes fixed on the viper standing in her campaign office.

Elizabeth's mind races: _What the fuck just happened? She is bluffing._ "Olivia I have no idea what you heard or think you know, but I am completely in the dark," she responds in faux innocence.

"Elizabeth, we are both too intelligent for this level of bullshit. You want to be a Big Dog? Strap on your big girl thong and step into the arena. Big Jerry sent you to help Mellie spin her way out of the destruction she created. You thought you were smart enough to play both sides and come out as the RNC Chair or with a seat at the Big Kids table. Unfortunately for you I am Olivia Pope and you are not equipped to survive a caged match with me. Now, be a good little girl…take your spanking and retreat to a modest size law firm where you will never make partner and do your best to stay out of my way. Are we clear?" Olivia directs forcefully.

Elizabeth nods her head up and down, "I see your uppity ass if feeling yourself. I have the goods and all I have to do is walk outside and start singing like canary to the pool of reporters I passed in the lobby. So, why don't you come up with an offer that better meets my needs," she spits back.

Liv smiles sweetly, "Go for it…I will not stand in your way," gesturing toward the door.

Elizabeth pauses… _She is too calm. She has to have at least one of my skeleton's bones. Damn!_ "Wait…why don't we try and reach a mutual beneficial deal…we are both powerful women making a place for ourselves in the old boys club. Surely our feminism allows for solidarity."

Olivia laughs, "Wow…I have only ever been a Black woman so I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that your feminism only includes me when it is convenient for you and your outcomes. I think the best deal is for me to maintain my autonomy and keep winning. Please excuse yourself and enjoy your day and whatever is left of your mediocre life." She stands, crosses the floor and opens the door for Elizabeth to exit.

Elizabeth enters the elevator and descends to the lobby. She exits and pauses near the pool of reporters. _Don't be stupid. Olivia Pope owns your ass._


	5. Chapter 5

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part V}

"Cyrus, I need your next free 15 minutes," Fitz shouts from the hallway.

"I'll be right there Sir," Cyrus responds. _This is my chance. Liv's in meetings today._ He gathered his files and prepares to convince Fitz to bring Big Jerry on the campaign trail. He needs an ally and without Mellie Cyrus was an island unto himself. He needs to regain the #1 spot. Giving Fitz a choice between him and Big Jerry he knew he could win again. He alone could play both sides and put Olivia back in her place. Today was going to be a great day.

Cyrus enters Fitz's office already making his pitch. "Governor, I have looked at the data and we need the Senator for Florida…Here is my proposal for a 'Pass the Torch' event-," he stops abruptly. "I apologize I didn't realize you had a guest." Cyrus warily eyes the other occupant in the office.

"Cyrus, please meet Harrison Wright," Fitz gestures for the men to shake hands.

"Pleasure," Harrison offers his hand in greeting.

"Liv's Harrison?" Cyrus questions; ignoring the polite greeting.

Harrison chuckles. _This motherfucker is going to be a pain in my ass._ "Yes, I am proud to say I am a member of her team."

"Okay…well, nice to meet you; but we have some campaign business to address," Cyrus states in an effort to dismiss Harrison.

"Actually Cy, Harrison needs to be part of this discussion. He will be your Deputy."

"I…what…no; I do not have time to train a rookie," Cyrus spits with disgust.

"With all due respect…I have a law degree and I was chosen by Olivia Pope and her gut is never wrong; therefore, there isn't anything you can give me that won't be handled-well," Harrison claps back.

"Great…now that things are settled; let's take a look at your proposal," Fitz re-directs the discussion. _Checkmate._

* * *

"Liv, you need to tell him. Rowan is dormant now but you and I know how quickly that can change. He's facing his truth…you should do the same," Huck silently exits her office.

Olivia continues to stare at a vacant spot on the wall while music plays in the background…

 _ **Oh, you loved me 'cause I'm fragile**_

 _ **When I thought that I was strong**_

 _ **But you touch me for a little-while**_

 _ **And all my fragile strength is-gone**_

 _ **Set me free…**_

"Livvie…Liv," Fitz's voice breaks through her contemplation.

Olivia observes his concerned face. "Don't you have a meeting with Jessica?" she changes the subject.

"Yeah…after this session with the file from your team we will be ready to remove Mellie from my life permanently," he smiles.

"May I come with you…maybe offer guidance or suggestions," she states on shaky breath.

Fitz is shocked but encouraged, "Absolutely," he smiles brightly.

"We will need to talk after-okay," her voice trembles.

"Hey, what is wrong?" he grasps her hand.

 _Find the courage and take the leap of faith. He will catch you or you will land on your own two feet._ "I'm scared-terrified, but I want to share my truth too," her heart is racing.

"How about I re-schedule and we take care of your stuff right now?"

"No, she shakes her head, your stuff is too important," her voice is slightly desperate.

He nods, "I don't know what this is but we will handle it. Let's go," he guides her across the threshold with his hand at the small of her back.

* * *

Harrison and Huck are hanging out in Abby's hotel room sharing beer, wine and pizza. "How'd your day go?" Abby asks Huck.

He shrugs, "Everyone but you guys leaves me alone."

"We know you're having the time of your life as Liv's muscle," Harrison teases.

"Yeah…Olivia Pope needs muscle, she rolls her eyes; if I get to the end of the campaign without shooting one of these Bible thumpers I'm treating myself to Tiffany's."

"What about you?" Huck asks Harrison.

"Cyrus is a huge threat. He wants to take Liv down and control the Governor. He is on edge and his actions are going to get desperate." Their eyes widen in trepidation. "Don't sweat it…I'm on his ass," he spits.

* * *

Mellie paces the hotel prison she is trapped inside. She nurses a jar full of hooch. Elizabeth's phone is disconnected and Big Jerry isn't returning her calls. Rumor has it he joining the campaign. She is locked out and quickly being left behind. She needs any ally. Mellie places a desperate call, "Hollis don't hang up. I think we can help each other. Just hear me out."

* * *

"Son, it's about time you sent for me. You missed an opportunity for free press meeting with after hours, but we can spin it as private family time. Now, let's talk about re-directing this dumbass outreach. Those people will never be Republicans," Big Jerry rants arrogantly.

Fitz leans against his desk with his feet crossed at the ankles. _This will be the end once and for all._ "Did you review the event outline and remarks I sent?" he states ignoring all this comments.

"I did but there was no need. I worked a campaign stage before. I have forgotten more than you know. Plus you cannot do this without me…this is the first of many appearances. I am sure Cyrus shared the polling data," he explains.

"This is your only appearance unless you want your various sexual conquests over the years to litter the daytime talk show circuit. Or maybe you prefer a whisper campaign about your non-consensual conquests," Fitz threatens.

"Fitzgerald those are old allegations potentially harmful to your bid for the White House," the Senator pushes back.

"Actually it won't be…it would provide the perfect platform to denounce you and advocate for tougher sexual assault laws," Fitz throws down the gauntlet.

"You don't want to go to war with me. I would hate to stand beside your estranged wife and paint you as a monster," Big Jerry spews.

"I beg you to do it…please provide me the chance to share with the public and the RNC base how much time you spent between your daughter-in-laws thighs," he brings his hands together in a prayer pose.

Big Jerry freezes and his jaw clenches violently.

"What…cat got your tongue? The sick park is deep down where a soul or at least basic decency should exist you are proud of yourself. You think all of the despicable acts you have gotten away with make you a winner. Well, I win today and every day moving forward. This is your graceful exit. Do not make me gut you in public," Fitz pushes off the desk and swaggers out of the office.


	6. Chapter 6

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part VI}

Olivia sits in the Fitz's hotel room wringing her hands and waiting. _You can do this. Grab your own version of normal._ Her personal pep talk is interrupted by his key card unlocking the door.

"What a beautiful surprise," he greets.

She smiles timidly, "Hi."

"Hi," he strides across the room and gathers her in a warm embrace. "God…you feel good."

She holds him tightly. _This may be the last time._

He feels her trembling, "You ready to talk?"

She nods against his chest before stepping out of his embrace and sitting in the desk chair. Her eyes bounce frantically around the room. He removes his tie and sits on the foot of the bed. _Jesus, she is terrified._

"What do you know about Black Ops?"

"I learned a lot during my time in the Navy," he offers cautiously.

"There are agencies that operate within but outside of the formal institutions…sort of like the ultimate checks and balance in service to the Republic," she states.

"I am aware…but how are you aware?"

"My father," she stutters and watches a variety of emotions dart across his face.

"Rowan is your father," he whispers in shock.

Olivia hops out of the chair, "How do you know that name?" _Have I been set up? I am a pawn? How did I become trapped in his latest web of espionage?_

"We crossed paths on one of my missions," he admits lowly.

"You are B6-13?" she whisper shouts escaping toward the door.

Fitz blocks the door and holds his hands up in surrender, "I am not B6-13. I was ordered to shoot down a plane; only later did I learn it was part of their operation," he explains desperately.

She gasps and tears begin to flow, "A plane with 237 passengers," her voice is broken.

"Liv, what are you telling me…you can't know that," she cuts him off.

"I know how my mother died…or was killed," she whispers her eyes fixed on the floor.

His knees buckle, "Your mother, his voice breaks, I don't understand…I killed your mother," he trails off. _No one can forgive that. She will never love me again. How can life be this cruel?_

The room fills with life crushing doubt, fear, anguish and hopelessness. Fitz breaks the silence, "I am sorry…I am so sorry," he doesn't look up. "I know you can't love me after this but my heart will always belong to you," he turns defeated and exits the room.

Olivia doesn't hear him leave. _I am alone again._

* * *

 **Two weeks later…**

"Billy Chambers why am I here," Hollis announces as he saddles up to the bar.

"Well I wanted to offer you a better return on your investment," Billy boasts. "The Grant campaign is looking shaking and I can guarantee they will collapse. This is your chance to join the winning team before it's too late," he offers.

"What's it going to cost me?" he questions. _Maybe I can make the most of her desperate offer._

"How much is the Oval worth?" Billy challenges.

"I want to pick the running mate," he declares.

"That is a non-starter," Billy snaps.

"My pick is armed to the teeth with all the opposition research you need to sink not only the Grant campaign by the entire family legacy. You only need provide some sanctified, holier than thou, Christian redemption."

* * *

Fitz and Olivia were dutifully completing task and maintaining painful professionalism. All the magic had seeped out of the campaign and it was starting to register in the polls. Huck, Abby and Harrison were huddled in the corner of the staff meeting.

"This is painful," Harrison offers.

"I hate Republicans and I want to give the miserable son-of-a bitch a hug," Abby replies.

"It's none of our business," Huck interjects.

"Fuck that…I say we stage an intervention," Abby pushes back.

"We have to do something before Cyrus takes his old spot back permanently," Harrison gestures with his head to the front of the room.

"Shit, reading from his phone screen, get 'em and meet in my room in twenty minutes," Huck announces before gathering his laptop and exiting the room.

* * *

Mellie selects the most conservative navy blue suits she owns and steps into a modest pair of 2-inch pumps. She secures her hair in a severe bun at the nape of her neck. She finishes her look with a muted pink lipstick. _I look like I'm entering a convent._ Today is her one-shot to convince Sally Langston she is repentant and found her Christian calling by serving the American people as a child of God.

* * *

"Fitz…Are you even listening to me?" Jessica accuses.

"Sorry…campaign stuff. Where were we?" he responds while staring out the window.

"Where is Olivia?" Jessica questions gently.

"She won't be joining us," he states.

"Okay…I incorporated her recommendations. Mellie will have to surrender the Grant surname in order to secure the property, but the property will remain in the trust for the children. If she wants the cash settlement she has to forgo any political career in perpetuity," she explains.

"We meet next week-right?" he clarifies.

"Yes…do you still want me to handle the press conference?" she asks.

"Mhm-hm…I cannot thank you enough," he turns to address her directly.

"Listen…I don't know what happened but you need to make it right. I am watching you die before my eyes," she implores.

"Some things cannot be fixed," he state emphatically.

"I call bullshit…you can remain this shell of a man or you can fight like hell…but giving up is no longer an option," Jessica chastises.

Fitz turns back to the window and watches Olivia return from her run. _She's not eating._ She is listless and her body looks fragile. His phone signals an incoming message. He notices Olivia reading from her phone. He checks his device. "I got to go…I will give you a call later," he exits the room.

* * *

Olivia enters the room and remains by the door, "What is so urgent?" She keeps her eyes trained on Huck. Every time she is in a room with Fitz her heart breaks a little deeper. _I am in agony._

"Mellie is taking the Grant family secrets directly to Sally. Hollis got her a meeting," Huck explains.

"How does that help her or will she be happy just to screw over the Governor?" Abby questions.

"Sally can offer Christian redemption and a fresh start," Olivia responds.

"Fine…but what does Sally get because Mellie's brand is Chernobyl level toxic," Harrison wonders.

"Hollis' money," Fitz supplies, "Huck, what do you have to counter?"

"Daniel Douglas' closet," he replies.

"Whoa…are we really going to out Sally's husband?" Harrison asks.

"No…but it's enough to stop this foolishness," Fitz retorts.

"Agreed…Huck get what we need to shut Hollis and Mellie down," Olivia directs.

"Harrison, I need you to be my eyes and ears today. Abby I need you to relieve Liv; and we need the room," Fitz commands.

"Over a cliff," they chant while leaving the room.

* * *

Olivia's eyes search around the room desperately trying to avoid him and her heart races. _We can't be alone._

"Olivia, we cannot go on like this. I refuse to allow you to punish yourself. You work, run and swim to the point of exhaustion every day. I will suspend the campaign so you can move on with your life. You deserve to be happy but at this point I will accept functional."

She won't face him, "I miss you terribly and everything hurts. Each time I think I am free from my father he shows up to make sure I am alone. He took my mother and sent me away to boarding schools to grieve alone at 12 years old. And now…I find the love of my life and he manages to taint the pure beauty of what we have…there is no escape. Now I am alone in agony," she chokes out in labored sobs.

 _She didn't use past tense to describe our love. There is hope…a chance._ Fitz's mind races to find words of comfort, an answer or a solution, "What if we could stop him? If we take the Oval we would have the tools to stop him. He steps gently toward her, "You and I together can move mountains, part the seas…change the world," he stands in front of her; his voice urgent but hopeful.

Olivia leans her head against his chest but her arms remain resting at her sides. Fitz lifts his arms slowly and pulls her into a warm embrace. _God I missed her._ They both exhale.

She lifts her arms and slides them up his broad muscled back until her hands are gripping his shoulders. "Okay," she responds softly. They linger wrapped together allowing their hearts and souls to heal.


	7. Chapter 7

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part VII}

 **Weeks later…**

Olivia waits in the hotel bar for Billy Chambers to arrive. She touches her cheek tenderly remembering the tingle from Fitz's lips on her skin.

"I like it when the woman I am meeting is already smiling," Billy announces his arrival.

"Billy, to what do I owe the honor," Olivia responds.

"Actually I am here to do you a favor," he retorts. "Your campaign is sinking and I am offering you a way out."

"Are you high or living in an alternative universe?" she laughs.

"Neither, I am a decent guy, but I will do everything in my power to make sure Sally Langston occupies the Oval Office in January," he explains.

"Good, that is your job; unfortunately, Hollis' money will not be enough and by this time tomorrow your source for opposition research will no longer be cooperative," she supplies.

 _Damn! She knows._ "Well, I guess I will have to use plan B…Livvie." His lecherous gaze roams her body. "Are you wearing white panties tonight?" he whispers leaning into her personal space.

 _Fuck! Do not waiver._ "Billy, shouldn't you be focused on Daniel's black tie?" she questions with a raise of her brow.

"What is that supposed to mean? Daniel Douglas is a loyal, supportive husband to a powerful woman," he sputters.

"Of course he is…do you have anything else to waste my time?" she questions facetiously.

His shoulders slump, "No, I think we have covered it all," he is confused by her response. _I need to figure this out._

Olivia leaves the bar quickly and waits until she is safely in the rental car. "Huck, we are being bugged; hacked-invaded…I am headed back-get answers."

* * *

Fitz works with Abby on town hall meeting prep when Cyrus storms the event hall bellowing with Harrison strolling calmly behind him. "Sir, if I can have a moment?"

"What is it Cy?" he responds slightly annoyed.

"We need to cancel this College Outreach event and accept the invitation from the Chamber of Commerce."

"No," Fitz states emphatically.

"No…no…these are reliable voters. They will not appreciate being ignored."

"They aren't being ignored…they are reliable for a reason. The college outreach boosts turn out; thus, they will get my time-limited as it is," Fitz explains.

"What if we invite The Chamber to the Outreach event…maybe they can learn from one another or reach common ground," Harrison interjects.

Abby smirks from the corner. _Harrison is seriously on his ass._

Fitz's face lights up, "I like it…innovative. Business leaders engaged directly with the community they serve. Harrison take point of contact. I am going back to prep."

* * *

 **The following day…**

"Billy, are you making sure my Queen becomes the Leader of the Free World?" Daniel greets.

"Of course Sir…uh, I meant to ask if you are attending the next campaign fundraiser."

"Not sure…let me check with my assistant," he replies.

"Fine, just let me know. I think it is a black tie event," Billy hints.

Daniel's eyes light up, "I will make time…send me the details," he responds with enthusiasm.

Billy observes Sally's husband with a critical eye. _This is a problem; only I don't know what kind or how big._

* * *

Olivia walks into Fitz's campaign office. He leans over with both hands braced on his desk reading documents. She glides behind him and hops up on the right side of desk facing him. "You ready?" gesturing toward the papers.

"Yeah…I just wanted to review the settlement agreement and the non-disclosure form one last time," he shares.

"Jessica is a warrior…she did not omit one word, period or comma. I know you're worried about Jerry and Karen but you are finally going to be the dad you always wanted to be and not just their father," Olivia re-assures.

"How?" he trails off in wonder. _The comfort of being understood-I am not giving that up._

She leans up and places her lips against his ear and whispers, "Now hurry up and get this shit done because I have plans for this ass," Olivia hops down off the desk and uses her left hand to caress him before sauntering out of the room-making sure her ass and hips put on a show just for him. _Mother of God that thang is tight._

"Yes Ma'am," he shouts to her retreating back. _Sweet Jesus…I cannot wait to get my hands on all of that._

* * *

"Billy, so nice to see you," Huck greets warmly.

"Who are you and how did you get in here?" he questions harshly.

"None of that is important. I need the flash drive," Huck requests.

"Excuse me, but I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about," he responds quickly. _Is he some kind of ninja?_

"Billy, I have been sober for awhile and I like it, but I love my family more. So please, do us all a favor and give me the drive with the audio recording," his voice is elevated and rushed.

"Again, I do not know what-"Billy is interrupted by an incoming media message on his phone. He glances at his phone and looks at his guest. Huck nods and Billy opens the message staggering backwards. Daniel Douglas wearing nothing but a black bow tie is being serviced by a man whose face is buried in his groin.

"Give me the drive Billy," Huck's tone is harsh and desperate.

Billy lumbers to his luggage and retrieves the drive from the front zipper pocket. "That is the only one…I swear," his voice wavers.

"I know…I already swept the Langston Campaign network and all of your personal devices," he explains.

"Are you going to release…" he trails off with fear coloring his voice.

"No…good luck in the next primary," Huck offers and exits the hotel room.

* * *

 **Later that evening…**

"This is ridiculous and absolutely unacceptable. If anyone in this room thinks for one second I will agree to any of this they are delusional. I did not sacrifice my life for 15 years, have your children and play the role of perfect political wife to receive nothing in return. Especially now…you are poised to take the Oval. I did the hard labor…without me you would not exist," Mellie rants dramatically.

Fitz rolls his eyes and breathes deeply pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Soon to be former Mrs. Grant-you have no choice as I am sure your attorney has explained. Please sign before we rescind this generous offer and execute the full provisions of the pre-nuptial agreement," Jessica states.

"Oh I bet you are loving this…you were always jealous. Has he bent you over a desk yet? Go ahead-have my leftovers," Mellie spews.

Fitz leans back in his conference room chair. _Would it be inappropriate to record this?_

"Fine…look, below basic bitch. I am the managing partner in one of the top law firms in New York. My name is the first one on the wall. I didn't have to spread my thighs to a family member; spend days on my knees servicing a Lt. Governor; or participate in fetish erotica to make it happen. Now do you have a pen or am I going to have to kick off these Louboutins?" Jessica claps back hard and unforgiving.

Mellie stops breathing-her attorney blushes crimson, but leans over, "Sign everything now," she directs.

Jessica fans herself with a folder ranting under her breath, "This heifer better be glad I know Jesus."

Fitz keeps his head down chuckling. _These women in my life…_

Mellie signs every document in all of the identified areas. Her eyes sting with tears of rage. _This is not fair and so not over._

"May Mellie and I have the room?" Fitz commands quietly.

Mellie eyes him with daggers, "What now?"

He slides a prepared statement across the conference table to her. "You will read this statement at the press conference arranged down stairs. If you deviate from this statement, settlement or the non-disclosure I will unleash the gates of hell. Are we clear?"

She offers a crisp nod.

"Good…I am going to see Jerry and Karen. I would hope you do the same," he explains.

"I'll see them on their regular scheduled extended break," she waves her hand dismissively.

"For what it is worth…I am sorry I did not have the courage to say no all those years ago," he offers sincerely seeking closure.

"How convenient for you to grow a conscience now that you have everything you want," she snaps.

"You never take responsibility for anything. You are always the victim," Fitz shakes his head.

"Why…I am not sorry. I wanted the Oval and you were the quickest path. I am sorry you were too weak to get the job done."

"Thanks for making this easy," he rises from his chair and exits the room. Fitz enters the service elevator through the back of the building away from the reporters. He retrieves his phone once the driver pulls away and sends a text: Bringing this ass home to you Liv.


	8. Chapter 8

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part VIII}

 **Next day…**

Jerry and Karen enter the family visitor's lounge. Fitz stands in a corner anxiously waiting, "Hey guys, how are you?" The mood is tense.

"Fine…okay," Jerry and Karen speak over each other.

"Why don't we sit down…talk a little," he broaches.

The kids sit side by side slightly apart on the couch and Fitz occupies a chair across from them. He swallows, "I need to apologize about me and your mom. Divorce is hard, but ours was public and I am running for President. How can I make this better or easier for you?" he questions sincerely.

"Mom was going to get me into my trust and buy me a car. Is that still happening?" Jerry speaks first.

"No son…is there something you need?"

"Yeah-my money," he snorts.

Fitz remains silent watching his son's body language. _I already lost him but he may have never been mine to begin with-don't go there._ He shakes his head back and forth quickly to remove the doubt from his mind, "Karen, what about you?"

She glances at her brother and turns to her father, "Does that mean we don't get to go home?"

"What do you mean?" he is curious.

"Well, Mom doesn't live there anymore and you are campaigning. Are we stuck here forever?" she speaks her fear.

"Do you want to leave?" _What have I allowed?_

She shrugs, "Family weekend starts tomorrow and extended break is in a couple months," she explains.

"What if you leave with me tomorrow? What do you think Jerry?" he asks with increasing amounts of hope.

"I'll pass…can I go?" Jerry requests fully checked out of the conversation.

"Sure Son…can I call you later?"

"I guess…good luck. By the way, living at the White House would be cool," he offers before exiting the room.

Fitz turns his full attention to Karen, "So what do you say? I have some events but you do not have to participate. I can adjust my schedule so we have time to get to know each other better," he shares.

"Okay…I need to pack. You could carry my bags like the other dad's if you want," she peers up at him.

"Absolutely…how many bags," he teases and smiles big.

* * *

They make their way down the dormitory hallway. When they reach the door she knocks, "Bishop, it's me and my father is with me," she announces.

"Oh my God…you couldn't text first…come in," she shouts.

Fitz enters a teenage shrine: memory board covered in pictures; a multitude of ribbons and certificates attached to bulletin boards; lava lamps and every surface covered in books, lip gloss, lotion, jewelry, and body spray. He extends his hand, "Hi, I'm Karen's dad…Fitz Grant."

"I know…your Honor-Sir-Governor," she stutters before taking a deep breath and returning the hand shake. She brushes back her thin, double strand twists from her face.

Fitz laughs and Karen rolls her eyes, "Seriously…get a grip," she playfully chides her roommate. "Dad my big pink duffle is in the closet," she directs.

"Got it," he pulls the bag off the top shelf and places it on the bed. He stands awkwardly listening to their conversation.

"I'm going with my dad. I promise to Face Time every day and we'll text like normal," she explains.

Bishop hugs her tight, "I am so happy for you."

Karen pulls plain jeans and cardigan sets out of her bottom drawer and retrieves underwear and pajamas from her top drawer. She grabs two pairs of flats from under the bed. "Oh, I forgot the headbands," she thinks aloud.

Bishop rolls her eyes. Watching the behavior Fitz remembers an old argument. "Karen, you can wear what you want…I know you hate headbands," he interjects.

Karen freezes and fixes her eyes on the carpet, "Thanks but I don't have anything else. I will leave the headbands though."

"Well, we need to fix that," he takes out his phone and dials. "Hi…Karen is coming back with me…I am excited-he glances at his daughter. Anyway, we need to do some shopping-change her wardrobe…I don't even understand what you just said-hold on," he switches to speaker.

"Karen, my communication director Olivia Pope is on the line…" his introduction is interrupted by full throttled fangirling from both girls.

"Oh My God…I am actually squealing…yes, yes, yes," they are beside themselves with enthusiasm.

Karen and Bishop shout over each other, "Is Abby Whelan with you? Were you wearing Chanel boots on Monday? Oh, does Ms. Whelan always wear the Aviators? Did you really kick those reporters off the bus?"

Fitz's eyes dance with delight. _Wow! This may make our lives together much easier. Who knew?_

Olivia's laughter echoes through the phone, "I am extremely flattered…who else is on the phone," she asks.

"My name is Bishop Washington, best friend. We are the other Dynamic Duo just like you and Ms. Whelan," she states proudly.

"You hear that Whelan…we're a dynamic duo," Olivia teases.

"You bet your ass," Abby quips from the background.

"Language," Fitz scolds.

"Ugh, Republicans," Abby mutters, "So we're shopping?" she clarifies.

The women and girls talk for twenty minutes before the call ends. "Bishop, it was a pleasure meeting you and I will make sure Karen returns with exclusive campaign swag."Karen groans and Bishop giggles.

Fitz and Karen make their down the hallway. He proudly carries her sparkling duffle bag as they enter the car and start a new chapter of their life-together.

* * *

 **A few days later…**

Billy accepts the reality that he cannot shutdown the Grant campaign from behind the scenes. Thus he doubles down on the Langston campaign strategy. They are running the standard RNC playbook: anti-social progress, trickle-down economics-predictable and devoid of energy. His gut is telling him this will not be enough. Not to mention every event with Daniel in attendance raises a foreboding sense of disaster. He needs a game changer and he is desperate enough to consider any option from any source.

* * *

Cyrus waits on a park bench in a random park. He sighs deeply. The campaign has caught fire. Fitz is more engaged than ever. Olivia and her team have their own language and they seem to be five steps ahead of him at all times. The addition of Karen on the trail the last few days sparked spontaneity and increased outreach efforts and Millennial participation. This is no longer his party or his brand of politics.

"Feeling sorry for yourself does not get the job done," the dapper African American man interrupts his contemplation before taking a seat beside him.

"I am not sure how I lost control. I am confident we will make it to 1600 but I have no idea if the agenda will be anything like I promised," Cyrus confesses.

The gentleman pats his knee, "Do not worry about the agenda…just make sure he takes the Oath of Office. I know how to leverage my daughter when the time comes. Enjoy the rest of the campaign," he stands to leave.

"Thank you," he replies.

* * *

"Dad, can I take a rain check on movie night? Staffing a rally is exhausting," she laughs.

"Sure Princess, I'll be up late. Liv need to revise my speech and I am not done," he admits.

"Ooh…you are gonna get a Jimmy Choo in your ass," she teases.

"Hey-language," he lightly reprimands.

"Sorry…I spent the day with The Boss."

"Who?" his face scrunches in confusion at her statement.

"Oh, Harrison…Bishop and I gave him that nickname and he likes it-a lot," she beams.

Fitz watches her smile and takes in her outfit: skinny jeans, red Adidas with white stripes, a white campaign tank and a coordinating white Adidas sweat jacket with red stripes along the sleeves. _This is the girls trapped inside all those sweater sets._

Olivia enters the office glancing between father and daughter, "Hey Rock Star," she bumps Karen's shoulder.

"What's up Liv? Did we meet the turn out goal?" she questions eagerly.

"No…Karen shrinks, you exceeded it by 15%," she informs and plugs her ears to guard against the squealing.

"Yes, I gotta tell Bishop," she turns to exit.

"By the way…these are from Abby," she passes her a Ray-Ban sunglass case.

"Are these…" Karen trails off.

Olivia nods, "You are the proud owner of the hottest Aviators on the market," she laughs.

"Thanks…gotta Face Time Bishop. See ya' Dad," she runs from the office.

Olivia turns to Fitz, "Someone has a very happy daughter," she teases.

"I do but I have all of you to thank for that," he admits.

"If you believe that you are an idiot," she retorts playfully.

He laughs, "How was your day?" he scoots his chair back from his desk.

She closes and locks the door behind her back while facing him. She glides over behind his desk and leans against the edge. "My day was good…this extremely handsome man gave this rousing speech and winked at me. I am totally smitten," she responds with a coy smile.

Fitz rolls his chair closer to her and caresses her denim covered thighs, "Did he do a good enough job to get a tiny, little kiss?"

"I guess," she playfully rolls her eyes.

He pushes her blouse up and delivers a warm, smoldering, open mouth kiss under her navel just above the waistband of her jeans. Her breath catches in her throat. He stands slowly and peppers her neck with a trail of kisses before nibbling on her earlobe.

Olivia pants, "So good."

Fitz captures her full lips and pulls her into his lap as he drops back into the chair. Her hands reach up and capture his face. She opens her mouth and eagerly offers her full tongues. He latches on ferociously. She buries her hands in his chestnut curls. He cradles her back with one arm and grips her entire left ass cheek with his other hand. They devour each other relentlessly until their lungs burn from lack of oxygen.

"Can we end every day like this?" he rasps softly.

"For starters," she winks before they dive back into each other with dreams of forever dancing in their heads.


	9. Chapter 9

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part IX}

"Karen…just call him…he will understand…plus he wants to be there for you," Bishop pleads.

Karen continues to wipe her tear stained face, "Okay…but I need moral support," she sniffles.

Bishop sits beside her and uses her right arm to squeeze Karen's shoulder, "I got you."

She picks up the phone and dials, "Dad, I need your help…"

* * *

Fitz paces the hallway trying to calm down. His daughter is rightfully upset and he needs to make things better. He stops in his tracks as he realizes the full impact of her call. _She believes I can make it better; she is counting on me to make it better._ He enters his room for privacy and dials an unfamiliar number.

"Fitzgerald…to what do I owe the honor?" Mellie greets sarcastically.

"I just got off the phone with our daughter. Karen is extremely upset about her mother using her as a political pawn. What do you have to say for yourself?" he spews.

"Nothing…I have to build my brand and you went out of your way to make it hard for me. I am no longer a Grant on my own; but they are and I plan to make the most of their visit next week," she responds matter-of-factly.

He leans against the door and bangs the back of his head in frustration, "What did you promise Jerry?"

"Teenage man-cave…she didn't want anything," she shrugs even though Fitz cannot see her.

"She wanted your time and attention," he shouts.

"She can have it…geez…like a few photo ops would kill her," she responds dismissively.

"Mellie…do not do this. Put her first because she may not give you another chance. All Karen wants is a mom…we owe her that," he begs.

"I am her mother, but we are a political family. Karen needs to grow up and accept her role," he tone is unwavering.

"Well, I am her Dad. She will be with me for the next two weeks," he snaps.

"So it is fine for you to use her as a political pawn," she is cut off quickly.

"I know you are limited but can you point to any photo ops of her on the trail? I'll wait…You cannot because she stayed behind the scenes. Let me be clear…if you attempt to bully her-my team will unleash hell on you which is way worse for your brand. Got it?" he sneers.

"Got it," she hangs up in a huff.

Fitz falls onto the edge of the bed and takes a breath to calm his nerves. He dials, "Karen…I will see you on Monday," he pulls the phone away from his ear and smiles from his heart at the joyous sounds of her appreciation.

* * *

The Senior Advisors are two hours deep into a futile debate on the possible running mate. "Look, I know there is history but Nichols is the way to go…remember Clinton-Gore. There were the new faces of the Democratic Party…what is the point of all this outreach if not to change the brand of the RNC," Cyrus digs in. _Plus I can control him or split the party and regain my power if we crash and burn._

"I disagree…we are barely keeping the RINO label from sinking the base and another California Republican does not help. The re-branding and outreach is too new to be reliable. Langston…for all her faults solidifies the base. We can lean into the new brand during re-election in four years when we have solid legislation and accomplishments to back up the rhetoric," Olivia makes her case forcefully.

Fitz interjects turning toward the quiet pollster in the corner, "What do the number say?"

The shy blonde pushes her glasses up her nose by her index finger and projects the data on the screen located on the far wall, "The numbers support Ms. Pope."

Cyrus groans Abby smirks in delight and Harrison chuckles. "Give me the room…I have a call to make."

* * *

"Billy…a moment of your time-please?" Sally calls from her desk.

"Of course…I have an angle we have not tried," he introduces.

"Billy, it is over…I accepted the Governor's offer to be his running mate," she explains reluctantly.

"No…please do not do this. The divorce is not amicable and we can use that to our advantage," he begs. _I will not abide his whorish, RINO ways._

"I thought I made myself perfectly clear. We will not collude with the former Mrs. Grant. She is a charlatan looking to pimp the redemptive powers of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and I will not participate in that deal with the devil," she grits out. _I have my own devil's bargain that will require penance._

"Ma'am if you would just hear me out," he implores.

"The deal is done…I will be one office away from the Oval when the Lord sees fit to deliver me to my rightful earthly inheritance. We will meet with their team to stream line staff; align our platforms and re-allocate campaign funds. I want you to continue on this journey by my side but I will accept your resignation if your faith is wavering and you cannot," her tone is cold.

Billy recoils. _I do not matter to her. I need my own plan and loyal ally._ "I will continue to serve," he delivers convincingly.

"Thank you Billy and may God continue to bless you," she smile congenially.

* * *

Fitz sits between Liv's thighs resting his head within her bosom. A bowl of popcorn is balanced on his washboard abs. The news provides back for their hushed conversation. "With Langston's team coming on board we can keep track of Chambers easier," he offers.

"Harrison thinks Billy and or Cyrus will be our Judas," she explains.

"Possible," he nods.

"Abby picked up a whisper campaign regarding our relationship," she introduces meekly.

Fitz looks back and up at her, "First, how do you, my Livvie, feel about that? And second, how is Liv, Communicator Director, going to respond?" he asks without agenda.

She runs her fingers through his curls, "Livvie will let it happened during the General Election. Liv knows once Karen gets here the narrative will change."

He stiffens and she cuts him off, "The same rules apply…she will be protected; but the reality is the press needs personal life details. Without a wife, fresh off a divorce and no girlfriend Karen's presence give them chatter despite the lack of photo op."

"Fine…speaking of girlfriend can we make out now? I am hoping to get to third base," he laughs.

"If you insist," she huffs pulling her silk tank off, "Let's see how luck you can get."

Fitz places the bowl on the nightstand and dives in. He speaks with a mouth full of nipple…"I am a very lucky man."

* * *

Billy sits at his desk in the dark campaign headquarters. "Mr. Chambers if you need any assistance I am more than willing to stay late. I know how hard you work," the staff member offers from the doorway.

He looks up, "Amanda…I told you I would remember. Thanks I am trying to revise and edit our platform and previous rhetoric to prepare for the merger," he explains wearily.

"Oh," she nods and squints."

He watches her, "You do not agree with the merger but you are afraid saying so would offend me?" he suggests.

A smile tugs at her lips, "I do not think he is one of us-a true believer. I do not understand why so few people can see the truth?" she admits.

Billy sits up straighter, "Come in and have a seat…I would love to hear your thoughts on the campaign," he flatters.

"Oh no…I am such a novice. I would not want to waste your time," she sputters with humility.

"Nonsense…you sound very astute. Plus, it would give me the opportunity to spend time with a very pretty girl," he compliments. _She is much too easy._

Amanda takes cautious steps into the room and sits in the chair facing his desk, "I don't think he is who the public sees on the trail," she confesses.

"I couldn't agree more," his smile spreads from ear to ear.


	10. Chapter 10

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part X}

The Republican Party stood strong behind the united ticket of Grant-Langston and the general election was well underway. Reston was relentless in his attacks and condescending attitude toward the pretty, spoiled, rich boy and the religious fanatic at his side. The news coverage of the day's campaigning played out over the multiple flat screens televisions mounted on the walls. "I never thought I would say this but I may have to shoot a Democrat," Abby lamented to Harrison late night in the campaign headquarters.

He nodded, "Who you telling…he about to get these hands; although the rhetoric about Sally is true," he quipped back before returning his attention to the policy paper in front of him.

"Do you think he can pull it off…go the distance. We are changing the game with the outreach, fundraising and strategy. It's noble…idealistic; but is it realistic or even practical?" she stops reviewing the itinerary for the upcoming campaign event.

He exhales, "I don't know and I am not sure it matters…to me anyways. My life almost ended before it really began and this is my second chance. I am better now than I ever was and when this over…win or lose not just me but you, Huck, Liv…hell even Grant will be better."

Abby studies him. _Hmm, there is more to him than the avant garde fashion, charm and smoother than panty silk talk._ "If you say so," she offers sarcastically rolling her eyes.

Harrison laughs, "You know you can't hide from me. Behind all that cynical, acerbic charm is a true believer; but I will keep that our secret," he winks before picking up where he left off with the documents before him.

She blushes, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

* * *

Governor Grant and his top advisors occupied the main table of the campaign plane listening soberly to the pollster's objective projections. No one was moving and most were barely breathing. "Let me get this straight…I am going to lose by less than 5,000 votes no matter what I do from now until Election Day. I am going to lose as a result of one county in Ohio…Defiance," he repeated her words back to the group staring in disbelief.

"I cannot make a prediction or a guarantee…I can only tell you the numbers," she repeated pushing her glasses back to their rightful place balanced on the bride of her nose.

Fitz stood, "Good to know," he moved around the table and stalked toward the back of the plane.

Stunned silent Cyrus, Verna, Hollis and Olivia waited for some unseen force to propel them forward or cause any reaction at all. "Well I don't know about the rest of y'all but this is not how I do business. I get returns and the evidence of my investment is all around us. Looks like the good 'ole boy is going to have to take the reins of this here operation," he declares.

"What are you talking about?" Verna asks.

"Hear me out…Fitz is the real deal…once in a generation…cleaner than fresh snow-right," he looks to Cyrus.

Cyrus nods, "He is…the Republican Kennedy…he can re-make the party and build a legacy that will last generations."

"The way I see it…what he doesn't know won't taint him. I got a guy…tech geek. Says he can fix the voting machines…no fuss-no muss. We just got to be all in…so Grant can serve the people."

Olivia snaps out of her stupor, "Are you insane? We don't do that…that is not who we are; it is definitely not who he is. Governor Grant made it clear…this campaign is above board. You want to learn the same lesson his ex-wife learned," she snaps fiercely.

Verna and Cyrus glance back and forth between the two combatants on opposite ends of the political abyss. "Look here little lady…what do you think your resume is going to look like if this thing goes south? You got a plan B?"

"Do you? Because last I checked you don't bounce back from treason and based on what I have seen of you in action I don't think you will do well in federal prison," she retorts.

Hollis' eyes never leave her face, "Why don't we see what the others think? Verna…Cyrus?"

Verna doesn't respond but Cyrus manages to find his voice, "Hollis…this is a one-time only conversation. Do not bring this up again. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," he snaps. Olivia stands quickly pushing her chair out of her way before retreating to the back of the plane.

* * *

Fitz holds the phone to his ear. _This is real. He was right…I cannot win. He was strong and I am weak._ "Governor…Are you there? I am sorry to deliver this news over the phone but with the campaign," the officer trails off.

"No, uhm…do not apologize. Thank you for informing me so quickly. May I request a 48 hour gag order? I want to speak to my children in person and I am on the other side of the country," he explains.

"I will do my very best. You have my phone number. Please call with your estimated time of arrival and our department can coordinate with your staff. Again, I am sorry for your loss. The Grant family has served the state of California with distinction for decades."

"Thank you. I know he was tremendously proud to serve as the Senator of our home state. I need to begin arrangements but I will be in touch soon," he spins effortlessly. He stands to inform his team and is stopped by Olivia's rapid approach. Her face is contorted and her body language tense. _She knows._ He grabs her hand, "I know this throws our campaign schedule to hell but at this point it doesn't matter."

"What? Governor, what are you talking about," she squints in confusion.

"My father…he died…heart attack. Isn't that what you were coming to tell me?" he suggests.

Her hand covers her mouth and her eyes fill with sorrow, "No…I am so sorry. Tell me what you need?" she implores.

He squeezes her hand, "Right now I need Olivia Pope…my campaign Fixer. We need to inform the team and not let this derail what is left. I want to go out strong."

"It's handled," she strokes her thumb across his knuckles.

* * *

The funeral launched like a Republican cotillion; limo after limo arrived dropping off one political heavyweight after another. Prominent seating played like prized real estate and clearly established the pecking order for who was in the line of succession to the throne. Mellie spent the days leading up to this moment to develop a game plan that secured her political capital. She was the mother of two children grieving the loss of their grandfather. Fortunately for her neither the reporters nor the campaign could attack her; she could exploit the moment with her children at her side serving as get out jail free cards. When the dust settled she would be a permanent part of the Grant political legacy.

Fitz had given her strict instructions and she knew his team would enforce them away from the spotlight but the stakes were too high for them to respond with force in front of the cameras. She exited the car and was immediately greeted by a staffer. She fixed her features to reflect great grief and despair, "Please take me to my children. Our family needs to be together at a time like this," she raises a neatly pressed handkerchief to the corner of her right eye. Her conservative black suit and southern belle hat struck the perfect balance of strength in the face of adversity.

"This way Ms. Vaughn," the young man gestures toward the back of the church leading her down the open corridor. She bristles at the use of her maiden name. _Patience._

They reach the office and he opens the door. Everyone in attendance turns at the intrusion. _Time to perform._ "Gerry and Karen," she rushes toward them with outstretched arms, "I am here for you as long as you need. We are a family and we will get through this together…leaning on each other," she sniffles.

Karen takes a step back and Gerry keeps his arms at his sides. The adults in the room either roll their eyes or shake their heads. She moves towards Fitz seated at a desk reviewing the eulogy before it is loaded into the teleprompter. He looks over and then up when she places her hand on his arm, "Fitz, I know how difficult this is ordeal is for you. Let me know what you need. I can review the eulogy or greet guests. Let me provide the support you need."

"I need you to follow the guidelines and instructions for today's event," he removes her hand. The agreement she received was clear. She would not be part of the procession, her seat was on the second row outside the main camera angle and her statements to the press were limited to: I am here to support my children and Senator Grant served the state of California with distinction. "Gerry, Karen what support do you need from me? I am sure you would appreciate my comfort during the service," she attempts to leverage her advantage.

"I'm good," Gerry shrugs pulling at his shirt collar.

"Me too," Karen responds moving closer to her father.

Olivia anticipated her play, "Prentiss, please escort Ms. Vaughn into the sanctuary and her assigned seat." She steps away from the corner behind the desk were Fitz was seated, "Mellie would you like a bottle of water while you wait?" she offers with a 'don't try me' smile.

"You are too kind…please, fetch me a water," she banters back.

Olivia doesn't blink…her eyes never leave Mellie's face, "Prentiss," she responds sharply.

He hands Mellie a bottle of water, "This way Ms. Vaughn," he gestures to a side door.

* * *

Olivia finds him in the backyard chopping wood still in his suit. He had removed the jacket and loosened his collar. _He is barely holding it together._ She steps up and onto the stump…reaching for him. Fitz's shoulders slump and he comes apart safe in her arms…his face buried within her chest. He releases ever broken piece because she sees him…she knows who is and she loves him. In spite of his faults and weaknesses or maybe because of them she loves him on purpose.

Once his mournful cries wane to limited hiccups she leads him into the house, up the back stairs and into his room. He falls onto the bed resting his forearms on his thighs, "I want this…I want this more than ever. He was wrong…I can win this the right way," his keeps his eyes downcast as he continues to think aloud. Liv kneels before him removing his tie and his shoes. She gestures for him to recline. He looks up and her once he is flat on his back, "You believe in me right? You are all I need. Have I earned your vote?" his voice is desperate and his eyes are pleading.

She sits next to him on the bed. Her rights hand rakes through his curls before she leans down and places a healing, tender kiss to his forehead, "I repeat…I will eat, sleep and breathe Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III; but yes…you have earned my vote. Now get some rest…we have a lot of work to do." He offers a soft smile as his red watery eyes close. _He will be the next president even if it takes my last breath._


	11. Chapter 11

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part XI}

Mellie returned to the hotel and changed into a pair of black slacks and a lavender cashmere sweater. She had several hours of free time before the driver arrived to deliver her to the airport to board the plane back to obscurity. The events of the day ran on a loop inside her head. She loathed to admit the truth…Olivia Pope was an unparalleled political mastermind.

Years from now anyone who re-watched the footage of the funeral would not be able to detect a hint of Mellie's existence. The repast was private. The Ranch location was miles away from the main road. The press refused to waste time attempting to cover the event or even send photographers. She grabbed the room key card and made her way down to the restaurant. _I might as well enjoy good food and top shelf liquor on Fitz dime._

The hostess seated her at a table for two in a distant corner. The young girl never acknowledged her as the former First Lady of California. _I no longer have a public profile._ Mellie lowers her menu after making her selection of Duck Consommé served with corn silk, with chocolate, vanilla puree, rice and apple and a tumbler of bourbon. Her peripheral vision on the left stops to observe an intriguing dinner party: Cyrus, Verna and Hollis. The hostess seats them at a secluded table in the corner of the restaurant. _I wonder what they are up to._ She smiles. _Maybe this isn't a wasted trip after all._

* * *

Olivia knocks on the first door to her left. "Yeah," the young male voiced called out.

"Gerry, do you need anything? I am returning to the guest house but thought I would check in," she states.

"Cool…could you get a staffer to be get me 'In-n-Out' or 'Five Guys'," he responds over his back never taking his focus off his video game.

Liv rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "No. Your dad asked Marta to stay for the next couple hours if you are still hungry."

"Fine…whatever," he responds in annoyance.

She backs out of the room closing the door. The door on the right is slightly ajar, "Karen, do you need anything? I am going back to the guest house but I wanted to check in," she offers.

Karen looks up from her tablet with concerned eyes, "Is dad okay?"

Olivia nods, "He is sleeping but he's good," she attempts to reassure his daughter. The young girl opens her mouth to speak but second guesses the decision. "Karen, you can talk to me if you want or need to. I am not sure I can help but I am more than willing to try," she encourages.

Karen scoots up on her bed bracing her back against the headboard and crosses her legs into a pretzel. Liv responds by sitting at the foot of her bed. "I want to help…be there for him. He was a good dad before but now…he tries so hard and goes the extra mile as much as he can. Would you mind helping me?" she asks with loving, pleading eyes.

Olivia's heart beats a little faster. She never had the benefit of a father's love. She is a walking testament to the hole it creates and all of the dangerous, reckless choices a girl will make to fill the void. She is intimately aware how desperately Fitz wants to repair the damage inflicted by the atrocity of the marriage to Mellie. "Let's start with the basics. I need to work on something and he needs to eat but…"

Karen finishes her sentence, "He is stubborn."

"Exactly…pick something he enjoys but make sure to include a fruit or a vegetable. Next is the important part, I need his mind off the campaign for as long as possible. Can you handle that?"

"Consider it handled," she beams with an eager smile.

"Thanks Rock Star…I will check in with you in a few hours," she rises from the bed more determined than ever.

* * *

Hours later Fitz blinks awake to a dark empty room and a quiet house. He groans sitting up fully. He uses the heels of his hands to rub his tired eyes. _Okay Grant…down time is over._ He makes his way to the en suite to wash away the events of the day. After a hot relaxing shower he changes into jeans and a Navy sweatshirt not bothering to manage his wild curls. Descending the staircase he picks up the sound of the television. "Karen…Gerry…what are you guys up to?" he asks entering the den.

"You're up," Karen greets.

"Hey Princess," he opens his arms. She moves across the floor into his embrace. "Where is your brother?"

"Room…video games. I made us something to eat," she responds craning her neck to look up at him.

He looks down at her amused, "You cooked or you asked Marta to cook," he teases.

"I had Marta begin to teach me to cook. You can be the taste tester," she takes his hand and leads him to the kitchen. In the center of the island is a platter filled with toasted club sandwiches and French fries next to a bowl of mixed fresh melons.

Fitz lowers himself to the stool watching his delighted daughter retrieve bottles of water from the fridge. She climbs up on the stool opposite him, "Go ahead…try it and tell me what you think?"

He lifts the sandwich closest to him and takes a bite. _Turkey, bacon, aioli, tomato…not lettuce._ "Did you add spinach?"

"I did…and there are no bananas in the fruit. So what's the verdict?"

"I have a new favorite sandwich…thanks kiddo," he picks up a fry.

She exhales and takes a bite of her sandwich. They enjoy the meal and each other's company discussing random nothings that mean everything.

Fitz wipes his mouth on his napkin, "So give me the school update including the adventures of the Dynamic Duo."

She laughs, "Bishop and I are up to our usual fun and she is seriously saving my butt with math." She quiets contemplating her next statement. _Be brave._ "Today when you were giving the eulogy for grandpa I thought about what I would say when it was my turn," she trails off fixing her eyes on the granite counter surface. "I have this memory from my time on the trail. We had these back to back events and things were crazy and the staff was exhausted but you gave this speech about how you wanted to make the country better for everyone no matter what. People were cheering and it was electric. I was so proud…I kept thinking…that's my dad and I am so lucky…I want to finish the campaign with you. I even wrote a speech to introduce you. I just need you to give me a chance," she wipes tears from her cheeks and slides her tablet toward him.

He taps the screen and begins to read. By the fourth sentence the tears are falling. "I would be honored," he croaks.

Karen's head snaps up, "For real?" her voice is astonished.

"Absolutely…this is a memory I want as well. Thank you," he replies humbly.

"Perfect…I already talked to my teachers about independent study, alternative and modified assignments. You just need to send an e-mail to the Director. I wrote a draft you can use because I know how busy you are," she reveals her well orchestrated plan.

He laughs with a full heart, "You are something else," he shakes his head.

They are interrupted by a welcome guest, "What is going on in here?" Olivia asks entering the kitchen from the back door.

Before he can open his mouth Karen exclaims, "He said yes…I have to go back to my dorm and pack. Don't forget my list of things to do…I will text Abby about the itinerary of events and my appearances," she hops off the stool and barrels out of the room.

Olivia commits to memory the jubilant man before her. Despite the plan she has been working on all day and her unwavering faith in her team's ability to make the impossible real what she has to reveal will crush him. _It is our only way forward with our souls intact._ "Hi," she smiles softly.

"Hi," he beams.

"We need to talk and you are not going to like most of what I have to say and I hate having to tell you. Please remember I am in this with you…we are in this together…for the good, the bad and hopefully the great," she attempts to prepare him.

"Liv," he reaches for her hand, "How bad can this be at this point…we survived a dead marriage; the Mellie implosion; Billy Chambers' epic blackmail fail; Sally's habitual sanctimonious drivel and last but not least polling numbers that have us doomed to lose. On a scale of 1-10 where does any of it rate?" he recites.

"I do not know where you would rank treason?" she stares him dead in the eye.


	12. Chapter 12

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part XII}

Fitz sits on the aged tree stump blanketed by the dark night. The ax he wielded effortlessly earlier in the day lies at his feet on the left. The scattered split wood that absorbed all his pain and anguish at the unfairness lies to his right. He raises the bottle of liquor to his mouth with his dominate hand. He winces ever so slightly. He consumed enough to ease the normal burn down his throat. He stares at the ground contemplating his new reality. _I always knew a huge part of my life was made up…pretending; but even the lie I was living has shattered._ Her hands gently placed on his tightly wound shoulders jolts him back to the present. "What are you doing out here by your lonesome?"

"C'mere…Have a drink with me," he grasps her right hand off his shoulder guiding her to sit on his thigh. He gestures toward her with the bottle.

She takes a generous drag. Her eyes squint but she smiles. "This is dangerous…what level of goodness are we sharing tonight?"

"A very old and expensive bottle of Glenlivet liberated from Big Jerry's ill-gotten gains," he winks, "I deserve to put it to good use."

Olivia returns the bottle, "What kind of good are you doing-exactly?"

Only the moonlight allows him to view her face. He stares into her soulful brown eyes before admiring the tantalizing lips he cannot get enough of. "Sitting here with you I am embracing the fact that I am nothing and you…you are everything. The man that I was…the man I thought I was going to be no longer exists. Starting today I have options…a chance to be the man I hoped to be…to live the life I always wanted but was too scared to take the risk for…a life of purpose with the woman I was meant to love by my side." She gasps and her heart beats wildly. His eyes never leave her face. "So, we are going to drink a little more and then we have plans to make. Plan A: the White House or Plan B…got any ideas?" he offers a sly smile.

* * *

The next afternoon Fitz stands at the threshold of Gerry's dorm room. Karen busies herself packing for the campaign trail on a different floor. "Son, are you sure you won't change your mind? I do not feel comfortable leaving you behind. Have you talked to your sister about the kinds of things you can do on the trail without having to be a political prop," he attempts to entice slightly frustrated.

"No offense but what would be the point. If you could get me out of my assignments at least there would be a benefit. I'm good with the occasional photo op but otherwise my situation here is cool enough," he shrugs in ambivalence.

Fitz sighs, "I…I get it. Well if you change your mind just pick up the phone and call."

"All right…good luck," Gerry offers genuinely.

* * *

"Here…I made you something," Bishop sits on her bed and extends her arm to hand over a white box with a giant red metallic bow. Karen takes a seat on her bed lifts the lid peeling back sparkling white tissue paper. Inside are clear clip boards with 'Grant for the People' decals decorated by glitter gel pens. "One is for you and the other two are for Ms. Whelan and Ms. Pope. You mentioned they use them a lot," she smiles.

"You know you are the best…thank you," she looks across to her friend.

"This is I do know," she giggles. "Don't worry if you forget something I can send it to you…plus I am only a text, call, Tweet, Snap chat, IG, Face Time," she doesn't finish because they are both laughing.

A knock sounds at the door, "May I come in?"

Bishop stands to open the door, "Hey Governor G," she greets.

"How are you this evening Ms. Bishop?" he replies.

"Let's see…you are taking my bff to travel the country so you can become POTUS and move her to the White House; but since people's lives will be better I can forgive you," she jokes.

His hearty laugh bounces off the walls, "I have a deal for you. Since you are making a sacrifice for the country with your parent's permission…one weekend slumber party: room service; celebrity meet-and -greet," he doesn't get to finish. The girls cheer and high-five. He turns to Karen, "You ready?" he reaches for her large, red metallic rolling suitcase.

"Ready," she replies before hugging her roommate and walking through the door. Secure within the armored SUV she turns to her dad, "This is going to be great!"

* * *

A week later Abby climbs into the mid-row seat of the secure SUV with tinted windows. She is dressed in navy polka dot pajama pants, a grey hoodie, UGG boots and her bed tossed hair lazily pulled into a ponytail atop her head. "I brought wine," she holds up a bottle of Bordeaux.

"Really…it is 2:00 am on a Wednesday and we are meeting on campaign business," Harrison admonishes. He went the extra mile of wearing dark jeans, an old school light blue Lando Calrissian sweatshirt and black Timberland boots.

"Exactly…we are hiding in an armored car in a parking garage trying to prevent treason; secure indictments for those hellions; and elect the next President of the United States. I don't think a drink is too much to ask," she snaps.

Their spicy banter is halted by the driver and passenger doors opening simultaneously. "Huck, tell us what you found," Fitz directs turning in the bucket seat to face the back row. Abby takes a swig from the bottle and hands it to Liv.

"The computer programmer is Jesse Tyler…he works for Cytron in San Jose, California. He is freelancing…the company has no clue and neither does his girlfriend. Hollis offered him a million which is cheap," he shrugs.

"Yeah, Hollis could make billions," Fitz replies.

"So, Verna is down for a chance at the Supreme Court; Cyrus is rabid to be Chief of Staff; and Hollis is about getting paid," Harrison clarifies the stakes. _Even the possibility_ of _absolute power corrupts._

"Friday is the mega-fundraiser. We met our pledge projections but we still need to work the room to make up the deficit in the war chest once we return Hollis' soft money contributions," Olivia focuses the discussion.

"No need…I have money," he reminds. He and Olivia had been arguing about his choice to self fund. His eyes squint with confusion. The other occupants in the car gesture toward him with a long white envelope in their outstretched arms. "What is this?" he questions until realization takes root. "No, absolutely not," he shakes his head from side to side violently.

"Our salaries…which you will accept…this is what over a cliff looks like," their voices call after each other. "Might as well…I sent mine by electronic transfer," Huck shares without looking up from the screen on his phone.

Fitz emotions render him mute. He places his right hand over his heart; his eyes fill with gratitude. He nods quickly, "There are not adequate words…I will not let you down," he professes. _This is faith and loyalty from a team with integrity._

"You never have," Olivia responds for the group.

* * *

Cyrus' phone buzzes against the non-descript nightstand in his hotel room. He groans reaching out to secure the device. He pulls the phone in front of his face to read the screen: Satan's Spawn. "Mellie…why is your demented, devious soul disturbing my sleep?" his angry, groggy voice questions by way of greeting.

"You are a political mastermind so I am sure you can figure it out. However, you are old and I do not have that kind of time. I know about the fundraiser. I have a dress…hair and make-up and my flight booked. I expect an executive car, driver and suite at the same hotel as the event. Make sure I am seated at the same table as the Virginia delegation," she demands. _Senator Mellie Grant from the Great Commonwealth of Virginia she muses._

He sighs in resignation, "None of that is going to happen. Please do not call me again with your political wet dreams. I have a campaign to manage," he snaps.

"No…you have an election to rig. So, you can meet my demands and continue to secure my silence or suffer the brutal consequences of my public declarations…there are so many options at my disposal: go directly to the Federal Election Commission, the FBI, or Anderson Cooper…no, Rachel Maddow or better yet…whispering in the ear of the boy king-Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III. You have worshipped at his throne for decades and the Holy Grail is so close you can taste the wine of victory. To have it all snatched away," she dangles the threat.

 _Fuck…I am too close to let this shrill, fraction of a woman keep me from the brass ring._ "Fine… could you stop being comically stupid. Use the burner phone," he huffs into the receiver before hanging up.

Cyrus thought his poker face and nimble mind would save them when Mellie approached their table at the hotel. The campaign was suspended due to the sudden death of former Senator Grant. The sympathy vote bump wasn't significant enough to close the Defiance County gap. Olivia was never going to agree…she was a lost cause. Fitz turned her head with his idealism and charm. They both lived on their 'we can change the world' fluffy cloud in the sky. He was the only one tethered to reality. _You do not walk away from a sure thing._ He knew Fitz didn't have the stomach for the ruthless slaughter necessary to make political sausage-that was the role of Cyrus Rutherford Beene. He was built for the mud, muck and absence of morality required for seizing the power necessary to run the free world.

Unfortunately his deflection was ineffective and Hollis offered her a seat at the table and a piece of the high stakes, winning treason pie. Why settle for control of one potential president when you can have two. _If she gets too out of hand I can always turn her over to Rowan._


	13. Chapter 13

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part XIII}

Olivia and Abby surrender to the commands of the glam team in the hotel suite before stepping into their dresses. Abby's fiery tresses elegantly styled in a bun at the crown of her head place her long neck on display. The emerald green mermaid gown with black lace covered bodice begged for the trappings of a Scottish castle. "I guarantee no wardrobe malfunctions without concerted effort," the stylist teases. She adjusted the double sided tape on Olivia's dress.

The knock at the door breaks up the laughter. "Can I come in?" a young voice requests. Abby nods to the make-up artist to open the door.

"Wow…you look freaking amazing," Karen offers as greeting before sitting on the edge of the bed littered with clothes, purses, shoes, and bags of products.

"Thanks…You can still change your mind," they respond respectively.

"Uh, no thanks…while you smile politely and pretend to like boneless, skinless chicken breast I will comfortably binge watch Dexter; enjoy a greasy bacon cheese burger with fries; and finish the evening with an ice cream sundae bigger than my head," she giggles.

"Can I change my mind because her night sounds much better," Abby questions.

Liv smiles and shakes her head, "Don't even try it Whelan and you better bring your A game. Tonight is all about big dollar bills and checks with ridiculous amounts of zeroes."

"Yeah…just keep a soundtrack in your head: _**Bitch better have my money…Bitch better have my money**_ ," Karen sings rocking her head from side to side.

Abby cackles obnoxiously with a snort and Olivia's mouth falls open, "Karen Grant!" she exclaims.

"Ooh shit…that wasn't supposed to come out…my bad," she offers as an apology. Abby and the rest of the ladies continue to laugh. They thank the team and make their way to the door accompanied by the sounds of the silk fabric moving in time with their stiletto covered feet. Before they reach the door Karen calls out, "You guys should have at least one dance that is just for fun. You deserve a good time."

"We'll try," Olivia responds.

"I'm counting on liquor for fun but I guess a dance wouldn't hurt," Abby replies before glancing at the disapproving glare from her best friend. "What?" _I only say what everyone is thinking…damn._

* * *

The red carpet is flanked on either side by reporters and photographers jostling against one another for the money shot: Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III with a date. Once the press release announced the high end fundraiser speculation created a frenzy of huge proportions. The divorce finalized during the Republican primary and the general election had hit its stride. As far as the general public was concerned he was on the market. The beltway consensus was clear he should at least be attached in order to take the oath of office.

The procession of attendees began to wane as the time of the Republican nominee arrival approached. A standard issue town car rolled to a stop and the valet opened the door extending his arm to assist the occupant. The sound of cameras continued and reporters strained to determine the identity. A single gasp could be heard before the murmurs elevated to loud whispers…

"What is she doing here?...How did she get on the invite list?...Why would she even attend?...The children aren't even here...Break out the popcorn…This is drama in the making."

Mellie stood to her full height. The burgundy gown with shawl collar highlighted her porcelain skin and chestnut chignon. She pilfered the dress from the campaign before she had been unceremoniously cast aside. _This is making an entrance…welcome back to the political stage._ She reached back into the car to assist an aged Republican matriarch from her seat. Margaret Shelby was the ultimate Daughter of the American Revolution. Slave-rum-cotton money with the ideology to match; she was not crossed or questioned if you wanted to secure statewide or national office.

"Thank you kindly Mellie…make sure they get my left side and we need to stop at the bar before we take our seats," she instructs through her southern drawl.

"Yes ma'am…Kentucky bourbon if I remember correctly," she charms.

She pats her hand, "You really are working hard…bless your dark heart."

* * *

Fitz fidgets in his seat as the car rolls through the streets of Washington, D.C. Tonight was make or break. His speech needed to bring them to their feet and open their wallets or the campaign would run out of gas. He physically needed his Livvie at his side but that was not a reality-yet.

"The grand ballroom is perfect. Abby only threatened a waiter and a bartender. Olivia may have made the event manager piss his pants," Harrison reported.

"I do not know about you two but I am grateful they are on our side," Fitz admits. They both nod in agreement.

Huck looks up from his phone, "Do either of them have their phones?"

"Probably not…why do you ask?"Harrison responds.

Huck turns his screen to face the car's occupants. Footage of Mellie's arrival with the high profile donor target played out before their shocked faces. "We need to warn them because hell just broke loose." _I knew I should have packed my emergency tool box._

Moments later the limo rolls to a stop. The valet opens the car door and steps to the side. Harrison exits and charms the press gaggle with a disarming mischievous smile; Huck follows quickly moving to Harrison's left. Lastly, the man worthy of all the pomp and circumstance emerges. His presence focused all the energy of the red carpet. The press gaggle erupts:

"Governor, where is your date?...Your ex-wife is here…is reconciliation possible?...Are you hoping to make a love connection?"

Fitz turns the Grant Charm up to ten making his way down the red carpet and into the venue. Huck and Harrison fall in step on either side. He smiles, waves and offers a thumbs up to the numerous requests from photographers. Soon he spots James near the front of the rope line and decides to improvise. "Mr. Novak, how are you this evening?"

James puffs his chest at the opportunity to one up the competition, "Governor Grant, thank you for taking the time to talk. My readers want to know the significance of your ex-wife's presence tonight. If I am not mistaken not even your children are present," he questions.

"James my children are entitled to private lives. Their participation in the campaign is at their discretion and my job as their father is to honor their choices. I cannot speak about the motivation behind the presence of Ms. Vaughn any more than the other five hundred guests. I am thankful for all the support I receive from all across the nation," he turns to leave.

"One more question?" Fitz nods and smiles. "America wants to know when you will start dating. You are the most eligible bachelor in the world. Are you looking for love tonight?" he suggests.

He throws his head back and laughs, "As you can see," he gestures over his shoulder, "This is more of a boy's night out…but love is always in the air," he winks before making his way inside.

* * *

The Grand Ballroom buzzes with energy and enthusiasm. The Governor's idealistic passion and smart rhetoric brought those in attendance to their feet and opened fat checkbooks. His team busied themselves collecting contributions and securing the campaign war chest. The live band and soulful vocalist kept the dance floor full. Billy Chambers twirls his dance partner away from him before pulling her back into his body a little closer than normal. "Do you remember our goal tonight?" he whispers in her ear.

 _ **Darlin' you send me…honest you do…you thrill me…**_

"Capture Governor Grant's attention…hopefully a picture as part of tomorrow's headlines," she recites.

Billy leads them near the Republican nominee currently dancing respectfully with a mid-level staffer. He stops and taps him on the shoulder, "Governor would you mind terribly if took a twirl with Janine?"

Harrison watched the machinations from the bar. _Time to fall on the grenade._ He approached from Chambers blindside, "Billy I hope you don't mind if I cut in?" he states.

"No…no, not at all," he stammers.

"Great, Amanda…may I have this dance?" he extends his right arm palm up and his left arm bent back against his back with a slight bow. She blushes involuntarily before placing her hand in his. He leads her to the opposite side of the dance floor.

Billy watches them move across the floor momentarily forgetting the woman standing before him. "Uh, excuse me…Billy," her tone reeks of offense.

He attempts to recover, "I apologize…I thought I saw Sally attempting to get my attention. Please," he gestures further into the dance floor. "How are you enjoying the festivities thus far?" _I need to figure out a different back door to unmask this RINO and the Grant man whore tendencies._

* * *

Olivia felt him before he spoke. Her skin tingled and her face flushed. _The things this man can do to me have to be illegal._ She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Fitz stood behind her close enough for their voices to remain hushed. "I do not know what kind of game you are playing Olivia Pope but you are in a world of trouble," he growls close to her ear. His warm breath near her neck set a spark to her center.

 _ **If I go a million miles away…I'd write a letter each and every day…Nothin' can ever change this love I have for you…**_

His eyes devour her starting with her ebony hair loosely curled to soft waves. Once his eyes locked on her dress the vein that ran along his dick throbbed relentlessly. The red silk fabric clung to her skin. The plunging neckline made it clear she couldn't be wearing more than a pair of panties underneath. The horizontal diamond shaped cut outs at the waist would allow his fingers to caress her and bask in her warmth if he could get even one dance.

 _ **You can make me cry...you can pass me by...**_

She spins to face him and the fabric twirls around her legs revealing a daring split which exposes enough of her thigh to illicit a lusty moan from the back of his throat. "Good evening Governor Grant. You managed to dance with most of your female staff except your communications director. I think we should fix that," she offers a coy smile with seductive eyes. _His body was built just to wear a tuxedo._

 _ **Oh, you're the apple of my eye...sugar and spice...You're the girl of my, my, my, my dreams...**_

Fitz resists the urge to lift her into his arms. _Make the most of this opportunity…restraint._ He extends his right arm to the dance floor and places his left hand on the small of her back leading her to the center of the dance floor. He signals the band leader to extend the song before placing his hand over the uncovered skin at her waist. She places one small delicate hand on his shoulder and the other within his grasp. They move effortless blocking out everything but the feel of being in each other's arms. They dare not make eye contact but to anyone who spared a glance the message was clear: Love was definitely in the air.

 _ **Oh…I know, I know…Nothin' can ever change the love I have for you…**_

* * *

The evening began to wind to a close and Mellie's opportunities continued to dwindle. Fitz staff orchestrated a well choreographed effort to keep her miles away from him. She gave herself an internal pep talk. _You know how to close a donor. You have done it for him; now do it for yourself._ "Mrs. Shelby, the world is changing and smart, determined women like us now have a seat at the table. I know I have what it takes to represent the state of Virginia in U.S. House of Representatives in the next two years or the Senate in the next four...you have not committed your donations this year and I would be honored to carry your mantle. Obviously, Governor Grant has chosen not to reflect the traditional Republican values you have spent your life working towards."

The matriarch pats her hand, "I applaud your effort...you got grit; but you are lazy. You have had years to step up but you took the back road. To be clear...you laid on your back and offered the old currency-pussy sells even when cotton don't. Now I don't like all the darkies sniffing around but I will give the devil it's due," she gestures with her head in Olivia's direction. "She is one of the smart ones and she ain't about to let grass grow under her feet. As long as she is running the show he is on his way to the White House. I won't get everything I want but I bet I can get enough until the next one comes along and there is always another one. Now, be a dear and call for the driver," her voice drips with bitter disdain and condescension.


	14. Chapter 14

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part XIV}

Olivia opens her front door dressed in black leggings and a tank covered by a grey hug-me cardigan and bare feet. Her toes sparkle in Bordeaux red. Harrison and Fitz coincidentally dressed in dark jeans, Henley shirts and pea coats enter holding folders soothing their minor hangovers with caffeine magic insulated in paper cups. They take their seats as Abby shuffles into the room. Her Georgetown t-shirt paired with oversized sweats; her feet covered in blue socks and her eyes hidden behind dark glasses. "Why is the room so bright and why is everyone breathing so loud?" she grumbles.

"Abby, fresh coffee in the kitchen…drink it all," Liv directs.

Fitz and Harrison eyes inventory the room: empty bottles, knocked over wine glasses and half a bowl of popcorn. _The party didn't end once they left the venue._ Once the group settled Harrison kicks of the strategy session. "So I have the Finance Chair's report. We are only five million short of our previous total since we turned over the Doyle donation to the Federal Election Commission through the California FBI headquarters. The check from the Grand Dame of Virginia was a shock to say the least."

"Consider her donation ransom to make sure she never has to spend another moment with Malevolent Mellie," Fitz quips. They all laugh. "I will have the remainder of funds transferred today," he offers casually.

"No…you cannot be Grant for the People if you keep reminding them you are part of the one percent," Olivia argues. _Why is he so damn stubborn?_

"I disagree…I think it demonstrates that I am invested in this country," he volleys back. _Why is she so damn stubborn?_

Abby returns to the room gulping coffee from a mug so large she uses both hands. She grabs the seat on the couch next to Harrison. "Have they forgotten we are in the room?"

"Oh yeah, this is pay-per-view, heavy weight championship battle royale," he replies shaking his head. Ten minutes into their battle he stands moving in front of the fire place spinning his phone. He raises his voice, "I have another option," he waits for recognition. Their heads snap toward him with raised brows. "The GOP is the party of Lincoln…he fought a Civil War to hold the union together, signed the Emancipation Proclamation and built the trans-continental railroad-correct?"

"You think I don't know the history of my party…Why are you giving a U.S. history lecture?" they mock simultaneously.

"How do the people," he uses air quotes, "Travel in this country?" He waits to allow their brilliant minds to catch up. "Planes, trains and buses…why don't we do the same; we cut costs and automatically create campaign events, local coverage," he doesn't get to finish.

"The campaign presence brings the spotlight to airports, bridges, and the possibility of high speed rail. You can discuss jobs which every local, state and national elected official has to support regardless of party," Abby joins the argument.

Harrison uses his phone to point at her, "Exactly."

"The logistics would be a nightmare…Security…I have Secret Service now," Olivia and Fitz remain reluctant.

Harrison decides to take the money shot, "Ask me how many jobs would be created in Defiance, Ohio, how many shuttered factories would re-open in the state; the projected boost to their economy?" he dazzles the room with a smile. The realization takes the room by storm. Each occupant grabs their phone making calls and setting things in motion. His chest fills with pride. _No more insider tricks._

* * *

Billy slides out of bed determined not to disrupt Amanda's sleep. He looks down on her after pulling on his black boxer briefs. _At least I don't have to work for sex._ He makes his way to retrieve the USA Today in front of the hotel door. He sits in the first open chair. The headline above the fold 'Money Ball' is accompanied by a standard candidate photo of Grant and Langston from the dais. He skims the fluff piece article flipping to the interior page which included candid shots from the event: smiling staffers, RNC big shots, members of the Congress and Senate. His eyes linger on the photo of the former Mrs. Grant and the deep pocket Virginia Matriarch Margaret Shelby. _What is the truth behind that odd couple?_ His musing is broken by her voice, "Why didn't you wake me?"

He smiles, "You needed your sleep. We had a busy night."

Amanda attempts to join him but to her disappointment he gestures toward the available seating in the room. "I thought we had a good time," she suggests optimistically.

"The evening was fine…after all these years the chicken tastes the same and the conversations are just as bland. The bottom line is did we get the cash," he replies without looking up from behind the news print.

Her lips squeeze together in a tight line, "I meant our time together," her voice reflects her disappointment with his lack of connection.

 _Suck it up Chambers…this is for the White House._ He lowers the paper folding the pages before placing it in his lap. "Why don't we get out of here and enjoy the day?" he offers with a killer smile.

Her smile brightens, "What did you have in mind?"

"Let's do all the tourist traps we will not be able to enjoy after we win the election. How does that sound?"

"Perfect…I am going to get ready. Breakfast out?" she moves toward her luggage.

"Sure, sounds like fun," he replies rolling his eyes.

* * *

 **Two weeks later**

"I cannot vote yet so I need your help. My name is Karen Grant," the crowd cheers wildly. "My dad wants to be the next President of the United States. I do not know a lot about politicians but I am learning. I do know what makes a great dad and he is an amazing dad. He doesn't always get it right the first time but he never stops trying. He loves unconditionally, he believes in you even if you don't completely believe in yourself and he will never leave anyone behind. He will move heaven and earth to give you everything you need and almost everything you want. If you give him a chance…if you knock on doors; make phone calls; and pull the lever next to his name he will create jobs and fix all the things that are broken in our country or die trying. So please, help me…help him…vote for Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III," she projects into the microphone. The crowd chants at ear piercing levels. She steps down off the short stool and from behind the podium. Her delicate lace tank is covered by a crisp, cropped red modern styled blazer paired with dark denim skinny jeans and red, stretchy pointed toe two-inch ankle boots.

Fitz watches from the wings with misty eyes. His little girl wows the crowd and gives him a shot of confidence that cannot be duplicated. Cyrus nods along with her speech. "She is political gold…I do not know what we didn't use her sooner. We need to capitalize on her innocence. She is untouchable…she could easily sell the opposition research on Reston," he whispers in Fitz's ear.

His head snaps to his soon to be former campaign manager with ice daggers replacing his kind eyes, "If you go anywhere near my little girl with your vile political tricks…I…will… end…your…life," he spews.

Cyrus' heart almost stops, "I apologize…I got carried away…the power goes to my head. Forgive me, I know the boundaries," he stammers.

"Clearly you do not," he is interrupted by his Princess.

"Hey, old man…you're up…try and top that" she challenges with a bright smile.

Fitz removes his scowl turning to face her, "We all know I can't but I will do my best to keep up," he embraces her and kisses her forehead.

"True," she laughs. "I'm off to help register new voters with the young Republicans," she informs.

Once she is out of earshot he pivots back to his temporary campaign manager, "Cyrus, make time to see me at the end of the week," he directs before taking the stage to the crowd chanting: Grant! Grant! Grant!

* * *

The enthusiasm from the Virginia campaign event lingers in the breeze. Grant-Langston staff busied themselves breaking down structures, loading buses, checking out of hotels and preparing for the next stop. Abby enters Fitz's temporary office, "Governor, Olivia is tied up but I here to staff you for the candidate meetings," she explains entering the office.

"Thanks Abby," he responds, "I do not know any of these candidates," he hands her a list.

She reads down the list of names and brief biographies before freezing. Her heart races, stress sweat runs down her back; and her mind misfires. Her voice wavers, "Trust your gut sir…you need to rely on their vote for the infrastructure bill in the first one hundred days and immigration legislation before the midterms," she advises.

He nods, "Smart…I will keep my questions focused on my agenda. You are staying for the interviews-right?"

Abby moves on auto-pilot to a chair in the farthest corner of the room, "I am on the job." _You can do this…you are a professional. I will not let Charles taint my new life._

* * *

"Mellie, thank you for taking my call…I wanted to speak with you during the fundraiser but things were hectic. How are you?" Billy attempts to charm.

"Save the crap Chambers…you left me hanging and I never forget and I always hold a grudge," she spits.

"Fair enough…but you know politics is a game of leverage. I pushed as far as I could with Sally but at the end of the day I do what I need to keep my seat at the table. Similar to you getting a seat at the fundraiser; what's your play…maybe I can help," he suggests. _I want to know what she knows._

"Sure…get me on the short list for Congressional candidates for Virginia," she requests. _He's a weasel…might as well work it to my advantage._

"I can suggest your candidacy during a staff meeting or work the idea into my briefing with Sally," he dangles low risk cooperation.

She laughs bitterly, "I know you are on the junior varsity team but I am varsity…public list…discussed among the beltway pundits and traveling press pool. Secure tactic acceptance or neutrality from the campaign. You make that happen and I can make you part of the real big kids table," she disconnects quickly.

Billy stares at the phone. _What is the real big kids table?_

* * *

Olivia enters Fitz's office as he packs up for the evening, "How did the candidate meet and greets go?"

He shrugs, "They were all lackluster at best. We can get votes we need from anyone on the list. Cyrus has the pollsters calculating favorable/unfavorable data for each to help with the decision," he hands her a folder with the list attached by a paper clip.

She scans the list only marginally invested in the information. She reaches the third name and her heart stutters and her breathing stops. "Where is Abby?" she asks with alarm.

Fitz's head looks up from his desk, "I am not sure…she left after the sessions were over."

"Abby was in the room?" she exclaims.

"What's wrong?" he asks with concern.

Olivia runs from the room in search of her best friend. _No…no…no…hang on…over a cliff._


	15. Chapter 15

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part XV}

 **Afternoon**

Abby huddles in the corner of the closet enclave. She clutches all of her notes, candidate packets and her prized, customized clip board to her chest. The items are covered in bile, Starbucks with a shot of espresso mixed with stomach acid; and chunks of previously digested bagel with cinnamon-sugar spread. Her willowy frame shivers and her eyes are vacant. Her mind cannot calculate how she made her way back or how long her legs bent at the knee shield her from reality. Somewhere in the distance she hears the electronic lock disengage and a whisper of a voice.

"Abby, it's me…Liv. I am alone…tell me what you need," Olivia gentle steps bring her into the room and her wide eyes search for her best friend. _She is terrified…did she run._ Her nose recognizes the stench and she lowers her body to the floor crawling toward the closet. She stares at Abby's bare feet and surveys the tell tale signs of her friend's catatonic state.

Without warning or acknowledgement she begins to speak. "I held it together…no one knew…We need his vote and the Putney name means everything in Virginia. I hate Republicans but the Governor…he is right on education, gun control, justice reform and he can restore the economy for real people through infrastructure. I can do this…I am a gladiator…we are his Team," she rambles with tears pouring from her eyes and a red nose.

"Abby," she sighs, "If he knew…if the Team knew," Abby cuts her off.

"No…you can't…promise me you won't," she shakes her head violently. "I don't want them to see me weak…to know I am a fraud; that I was worse than Mellie," she begs.

"Abby…no; you were never…You got out. You are Senior Advisor and Deputy Communications Director to the soon to be next President of the United States," she states passionately.

Abby shakes her head back and forth without looking up, "Stop lying to me and yourself…Olivia Pope got me out. Olivia Pope took a tire iron to his knee caps while I lay on the ground in my nightgown with broken ribs, jaw and yet another black eye," she spits in disgust.

 _I have got to bring her back…keep her whole._ "Every one of us has wreckage…dark, twisted, what the hell was I thinking, horrible mistakes. This campaign is our 'do over'; our chance to make it right not just for the people but for our own story. We are the people…if we can stand in our truth and move the Republic forward imagine what they will be able to accomplish for their lives. If you can stand in your truth imagine what you can teach other young women…like Karen, on how to be strong."

The mention of Karen drags her out of her despair and anguish. The young girl wormed her way into Abby's heart and under her skin. She confided not long ago during an impromptu slumber party who she wanted to be and how much of a role model she believed Olivia and Abby were. _For her I can be brave._ Abby stretches her legs, "I need to get cleaned up…I am going to work from my room today. The Governor needs a candidate to endorse and I can make that happen," she declares with a shaky breathe.

Olivia releases an anxious breath, "They need to know," she reminds gently.

Abby nods, "I know…I want to do it. I need time…but I can stand in my truth," her resolve begins to return.

Olivia places her hand on her knee and squeezes affectionately, "Over a cliff."

* * *

Amanda enters Billy's office, "I hope this is quick…I am delivering press packets in fifteen minutes."

His eyes light up, "Perfect…you are an angel sent from on high," he responds with a victorious smile.

"I know that smile…what plan is coming together?" she inquires.

Billy hands her a single sheet of paper emblazoned with the Grant-Langston logo and letterhead. "This is our short-list of possible congressional candidates we may endorse," he explains.

"Oh, I didn't know the campaign was that far along in the process. Usually we schedule an event, fundraiser or rally," she muses.

"We are ahead of schedule…we will get to that but we need to create some buzz…build the anticipation-free media," he schemes.

He has her rapt attention, "I do not know what this campaign would do without you," she praises.

"They will never have to know," he replies with smug satisfaction, "Do me a favor? Drop a copy off on the Governor's desk…he is expecting the final draft. I will make sure Sally receives her copy during our de-briefing," he continues to execute his calculated sabotage.

Amanda perks up, "Maybe I can catch him alone…build some rapport," she suggests.

"I could not agree more…you are a great ally. You and I can save the Republic from that charlatan," he encourages.

She beams with pride, "Hopefully you will have free time later," she allows the open invitation to linger.

"For you and all your hard work…I will make time," he winks. She bounces out of the office determined to complete her task. _My faith sustains me. Sally Langston will be the next President-Elect and Fitzgerald Grant will be vanquished to the trash bin of history._

* * *

 **Evening**

Karen sits at her dad's desk deep in a FaceTime discussion with her best friend. "How does it feel when the crowd is roaring?" Bishop asks.

"Exhilarating now…At first the experience was overwhelming…the impact comes in waves because the sound of your voice has to reach all the way to the back before the crowd response returns to you. Liv and Abby helped me practice and dad gave me all these tips on how to 'ride the wave'. I am getting better but I know for sure I will not be in the family business."

"Seems like you two are getting closer?" she probes.

Karen's face lights up like Christmas morning, "We are…I have all these real memories that matter. I think he wishes Gerry was here but I don't know how to make that happen. How is he by the way?" she muses.

Bishop's eyes bounce around searching for the right words. "He is getting really popular and he seems happy about that," she obfuscates.

"I call bullshit…"Karen responds and stares her friend down.

"Fine…he is in the first stages of man whore," she huffs. Basically the entire mean girl crew is happy to take a knee if you get my drift for the future First Son," she confesses, "If I were you I would reach out…try and talk some sense into him."

"I do not know if I can. He is so much like MINO…I don't speak their language," Karen laments.

Bishop laughs, "Please stop calling her 'Mother in Name only'."

"Please…like it isn't true. You know she calls after every political appearance I make to give me constructive criticism," she uses air quotes.

"Ouch," their conversation is interrupted by the office door opening.

"Oh…excuse me. I was hoping-expecting the Governor," the staffer holding the folder stammers.

"I am not the Governor…are you making a delivery or leaving a message," Karen retorts.

The staff member regains her composure, "No…I will come back when he is available," she turns to exit.

Karen stands with her right arm extended and her hand palm side up, "He will not be available so leave the document with me. What is your name again? I noticed you a few times but I don't think we were introduced," she pushes her advantage.

"Oh, of course…Amanda Tanner…pleasure to meet you. We are all so impressed by your work on the campaign," she hands over the folder and smiles.

"Thanks," she waits expectantly for Amanda to exit but she seems to linger. _This THOT is not even slick._ "Well…thanks again for stopping by and I will make sure my father receives the materials."

"Absolutely…nice to meet you Karen," she states.

Karen watches her retreat and returns to her seat behind the desk. Bishop reads her mind, "Are they all that thirsty? Was that the redhead one?"

"Yes…no, this one is new and blonde and sneaky," she replies. Olivia's voice is the new soundtrack in her head. _Trust your gut._ Karen opens the folder and starts reading.

"Karen, stop. I am sure you are not supposed to do that," Bishop admonishes.

Karen ignores the warning, "Fuck…I got a go," she disconnects without allowing her friend to respond. Her eyes narrow… _In the words of my Queen B, Bishop Washington, not today Satan._

* * *

The majority of staff tucks away in their respective rooms for some much needed sleep. Olivia summoned Huck, Harrison and Fitz and they wait patiently for Abby's hotel door to open. "Do we know why we are here?" Huck asks. _I am not comfortable not knowing._ His body fidgets and his eyes dart around the space calculating risks.

"I received the same text you both did: Over a cliff; and I came running," Harrison responds.

Fitz replays his last encounter with Abby during the candidate meet and greet but nothing registers as out of the ordinary. "She staffed me during a meeting…professional, thorough," he shares.

The door opens and Olivia emerges joining them in the hallway, "I need to prepare you…listen, stay calm and do not over react-understand," her voice is firm.

The men glance at each other and their protective instincts kick into overdrive before they turn back to Olivia. She recognizes the cold resolve in their eyes and the stiffness of their posture. Liv releases a resigned sigh, "Fine…try not to over react. We are here for her and what she wants," she attempts a secondary strategy. They nod quickly and enter the room with a forceful, purpose driven stride.

* * *

James rests his head against the back of the small sofa in Cyrus' suite. He hums in delight, "I must compliment my host…your hand jobs are a work of art. What could have possibly done to deserve that level of pleasure," he questions from a dream like state.

"Can't a man just miss you…all these infrastructure events has not allowed us any time together," he lays on the charm while cleaning up the sticky mess with a warm towel.

"Maybe…but I know Cyrus Rutherford Beene and there is always an agenda. An angle…an alternate strategy; you remain ten steps ahead of everyone else. You are power hungry most days and while I find it sexy…I am not blind," he side-eyes his paramour.

"Fine…I need to get a blind quote out," he confesses because he is too tired to continue to weave this web.

James tucks himself together and retrieves his reporter's notebook. "How deep background are we talking?"

"Senior Campaign Staff," he replies. James nods and continues note taking. "A reported list of possible candidate endorsements includes Mellie Vaughn." _That quote is vague and deep enough to frame any number of people._

James' head snaps up so violently Cyrus is mildly concerned he may need a neck brace. "This is real…you are not setting me up only to have Olivia retaliate from the podium or kick me off the bus," his voice is incredulous.

"You have my unwavering protection as long as you honor your journalistic integrity and never reveal your source," he warns.

James studies his face and nods in the affirmative. _This does not pass the smell test. I need to dig a little deeper and keep Cyrus off my investigative trail._


	16. Chapter 16

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part XVI}

Charles Putney's car pulls into his garage. He loosens his bow tie walking into the mudroom. He was tired from a long night at the state wide Republican mixer. The event progressed according to plan. The long time allies of his father were solidly in his corner and the up and coming new money appeared willing to get on board. He just needed the endorsement. The Grant candidate meeting was a surprise to say the least. He had not expected to see her there. He could not quite put his finger on what changed but she was different. He muses over the conversation with his father after the candidate meeting:

 _ **Flashback**_

" _Son, how did it go? Did you remember to emphasize my accomplishments and long standing relationships with the solid big money donors?"_

" _Yeah, as much as I could but he did not seem interested. He spent most of the time probing me about my stance on the issues. I kept it simple and repeated the Reagan model…I will vote with you 80% of the time but I am not confident the promise of my vote was enough," he divulges._

" _Ugh, he is a RINO for sure and worse yet Big Jerry's boy which means if you are lucky he will only stab you in the back. Look, play ball…once you get in the door we can take it from there," he encourages._

" _There was a surprise," he hesitates, "My ex attended the meeting…she is a Senior Advisor."_

 _His revelation is met with silence. "Do you think she will keep her mouth shut?"_

" _Probably…who wants to admit that," he doesn't finish the thought._

" _Maybe you can use her to get closer to the inner circle. Sweet talk her…show her you changed. A public reconciliation love story could be political gold. Langston's spot could open during the re-election and your ex-wife could be your ticket to the Vice Presidency," the senior Putney plots._

" _I don't know…it sounds good in theory but she does not know how to stay in her place and with the pressures of a Senate Office I do not need the headache of a disobedient, mouthy wife," he pushes back._

" _Listen to me…our name means something. I am building a legacy and you are what I have to work with. You are not smart, savvy or charming. If the opportunity presents itself you will win her back. Find a whore on the side to channel your need for obedience-do you understand," he grits out._

" _Yes Sir," he replies._

 _ **End of Flashback**_

His inner reflection is abruptly interrupted. "Charles Putney, please have a seat," a male voice commands. The pendent lights over the kitchen island turn on and two men reveal themselves.

"How…who are you? I will call the police," he stammers and fumbles to pull his phone from inner suit pocket.

"Please do call the authorities. I am confident they would need to speak with you regarding the long list of women you abused in high school, undergrad and graduate school; not to mention your Ms. Whelan," the man continues to speak.

Charles stares wide-eyed at the dapper African American man standing in his home exposing the dark truth. He is startled by the sound of metal against the granite counter top. A stocky Latino gentleman draped in flannel places drill bits on the counter next to a red tool box.

"Now that I have your attention I need to explain what needs to happen within the next 48 hours. Do you want to take notes?" Charles shakes his head back and forth. "Okay but I will check for understanding before we leave. You want to make sure you get this right the first time. All follow up visits are handled by my colleague," he taps the tool box. Charles intake of air is audible.

"I…can…I mean…I will get it right the first time," he fights the urge to piss down his own leg.

"Fine…you are a fucking idiot and a despicable human being but survival is usually a great motivator. First, you will schedule a press conference withdrawing your name from consideration for elected office. You will explain to the citizens of the great state of Virginia that you have personal demons, anger issues and a history of violence that require you to seek treatment. Second, you will work with a national reporter on a feature piece charting your journey from your first day in a rehabilitation facility to recovery," his delivery is quick, animated and deliberate.

"My father…our family name. You cannot expect me to out myself," his brow squeezes tightly in confusion, "What if I refrain from the national stage and focus on state wide office only," he attempts to negotiate.

"You no longer have a political future. Governor Grant personally blocked any and all contributions and future endorsements. Further, any attempt to circumvent his wishes will allow him the pleasure of destroying the Putney name from the platform of his presidential campaign or the White House. How do you think daddy will respond to those dynamics?" he questions.

Charles' nervous system spirals. He is losing control of his bodily functions. "You may want to step back…he looks like he may projectile vomit and that smell is definitely him shitting his pants," Mr. Tool Box reports.

"Nasty ass…do you understand?" Charles nods as flop sweat pours from his forehead. "Good…on a personal note. If my Gladiator senses tingle because you are even thinking about Abby Whelan; you will need to leave the country," he threatens, "We will see ourselves out," he turns to exit.

* * *

 **Top of the hour…7:00 am**

The senior staff scrambles around a conference table surrounded by television monitors. Frantic phone conversations clash against one another pushing back against the reporting, "Give me time before you publish your report…A press conference is forthcoming…Yes, I have seen the document…No, and the staff cannot confirm the authenticity of the list at this time…I have read James Novak's piece." The morning headlines were grim:

 **Governor Grant endorsing his ex-wife…Fake miscarriage earns a seat in the Senate…Hypocrisy of the highest level…Senate seat part of the divorce settlement...Senior Advisor confirms validity of possible endorsement**

Governor Grant rolls into the conference room like a thunder clap with Cyrus hot on his heels, "How the hell did this happen? Who the fuck is this Senior Advisor? I do not want a statement…I want a body," he roars.

His level of rage stops every person from moving or responding. They all glance at one another before turning to the only salvation in the room-Olivia Pope. "Governor Grant on behalf of the Communications Department I apologize for the monumental, unforced error. I am prepared to submit my resignation and hold a press conference immediately to take full responsibility for the action or actions that lead to the release of the erroneous document and the subsequent devastating news cycle," she stands firm squaring her shoulders and fixing her eyes on the wall to the left of his head. _I have failed him._

He opens his mouth to speak but his daughter's voice streaming through the television monitors draws his full attention. His body pivots toward the screen. "Thank you for having me Melissa," she begins. Her chocolate locs are straightened and parted on the right side. Her shoulders are framed by her crisp, red blazer over the Grant for the People campaign t-shirt.

"I would like to start at the beginning. Yesterday you reached out to our magazine, Teenage Elle, and we received the standard authorization from your father required for any media access to you," she affirms.

"Correct…my dad is very protective. He allows me to decide how and when I want to participate and then he says yes," she smiles warmly.

"To be clear you decided to grant this interview to set the record straight," she continues.

"Yes…my mother will not seek elected office. She has done a great deal of soul searching. She is focused on becoming a better person and strengthening her bond with my brother and me," she lies without remorse.

"I have to ask…if that is the case…how does her name show up on a list of potential candidates and become part of the Grant-Langston press packet? Further, she attended the mega-fundraiser. The chain of events appears tactically orchestrated," the reporter probes.

"I do not how she attended the fundraiser. Like so many people she supports my dad's candidacy. I know how the document was inserted into the press packet and who is responsible but I cannot discuss that at this time. I can say that I am confident it will be handled," a sinister smile spreads across her face.

The journalist pauses, "I am getting major political operative vibes right now," she teases.

Karen laughs, "I am my father's daughter and I have learned a lot from his Team...They are the best in the game...but that is not what your audience wants to talk about," she pivots.

"You are right…I want to start with Governor Grant's immigration policy." Every adult in the room is fixated on the screen as Karen Grant saves her father's campaign and wins the news cycle. When the interview concludes the room remains silent.

Huck is the first to speak, "I'm buying her a gun."

"Like a boss…I am buying her a pair of red bottoms," Harrison adds.

"Holy mother of God," Cyrus cannot begin to finish the thought. _How does she know? How much does she know? I can't destroy a child-can I? Maybe…she did enter the arena._

* * *

 **Afternoon**

Olivia Pope enters the amateur campaign office issuing orders, "Take that down," she gestures, "You," she points, "Get me the latest polling numbers…which one is Susan Ross," she requests never breaking stride. "Turn off that camera," she instructs.

"You can't do that. I am in the middle of a Face Book campaign rally," the candidate responds.

"This is not a campaign for anything…not even a middle school grade level class representative. You need my help" she states.

"Who are you and why would I accept your help," she retorts.

"My name is Olivia Pope, Communication Director for the Grant-Langston campaign. I can make you the next Senator from the state of Virginia. All you have to do is say yes Susan...say yes Susan," she directs. The candidate nods her head up and down, "Good," retrieving her phone without taking her eyes off the woman in front of her. "Leo…Olivia…arrive within the hour and I will not accept anything less than victory."

* * *

Karen attempts to enter the hotel suite she shares with her father. Her hands tremble…the fearful swirl within her gut only intensified on the elevator ride up. She made the driver and security circle the block three times before she was able to get out of the car. On her third failed card swipe the door swings open filling the space with the full 6' 2 frame of Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III. She swallows audibly, "I can explain," she holds her hands up in surrender.

He steps back from the threshold to allow her to cross, "Karen Grant…I do not know whether to ground you forever or buy you the Maserati your brother wants," he states in exasperation.

She breathes a sigh of relief, "I will tell you everything I promise but I am really hungry. I have been a nervous wreck all day. I threw up breakfast…can we get some Pad Thai with shrimp and chicken? We definitely need the Team and I prefer American muscle cars," she tries to ease the tension radiating off her father.

He watches her while placing a call, "Rogue Gladiator has returned."

* * *

Mellie sits on her couch gulping from her Mason jar of hooch. She presses repeat on her remote to watch her daughter crush her life through a simple interview with a teen magazine. Sure she did not have the standard maternal gene but she never pretended she did. Fitz was a lot of things but he would not manipulate the children in this fashion. Her mind runs through a list of likely suspects. It could not be Cyrus because he learned the rules regarding the Grant children years ago. The only culprit was her-Olivia Pope. Her arrival on the campaign trail marked the end of the life Mellie's orchestrated for herself. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. _She will pay no matter the costs._


	17. Chapter 17

**Georgia** {Part XVII}

Cyrus paces in his hotel room. He has not slept since the night before. Yesterday's events a constant loop in his head. His presumptions about Olivia were correct…she willingly took the blame for the endorsement debacle. He was so close to her elimination, demotion or at least a significant drop in her credibility with the Governor. His return to glory was within reach until the interview. Karen Grant was the Holy Grail; political children could not be criticized by staff; the opposition nor the media could attack-she was untouchable. But what did she know? She made it clear she knew a secret or the secret but which one and how dirty? His sinister machinations were halted by banging on his door.

Bang! Bang! Bang! "Cyrus, get a move on…time to take down a Judas," Olivia shouts through the door.

He froze. _Did James buckle under the pressure? Am I off to the gallows and the guillotine?_ He frantically attempts to re-tuck his shirt and tighten his tie before grabbing his suit jacket from the back of a nearby chair. "Coming," he replies harshly. He swings the door open facing the flesh and blood nemesis that lives in his head. "A heads up would be nice," he snaps.

Olivia Pope dressed in a crisp white suit with a wide cuffed pants leg and red peeped toe pumps stands before him, "Where is the fun in that?" she gestures with a insulated paper cup in her hand before strutting toward the elevator.

* * *

James slouches down on the back bench seat of the Press Bus, "Listen to me…you do not want to pull me from the campaign. I know the damage to my credibility as a journalist and the paper but the story is bigger and deeper. You and the readers will want to know why the same Senior Adviser that spoke on background has a burner phone. A burner phone I extracted the numbers from," he dangles the larger conspiracy story in front of his editor.

"James, this better be Watergate level good. I can buy you 48 hours to develop a concrete, front page, top of the fold major headline, full byline story," his editor replies.

He breathes a sigh of relief. "Done," he hangs up the phone. He scrolls through the contact list. _Who have you been talking to Cyrus and why?_

* * *

"Billy, now is the time to strike…we need a whisper campaign to undermine Grant. He is our Trojan horse into the White House but the GOP must perceive him as weak. We need the powers that be to rally to our aide to enact the true Republican agenda. We need to become the go to endorser and top fundraiser for the midterm elections. Then and only then can we mount a primary challenge from the Office of the Vice President of the United States," she lays out the plan of attack.

He smiles. _His plan is coming together._ He spent yesterday dodging and avoiding Amanda. She was a willing pawn and easily replaced. He needed time to develop a viable strategy to keep Mellie on the hook. She had a political golden ticket and he wanted it for himself. "I noticed his Team kept a low profile after pimping his poor, defenseless daughter to avoid the rightful scrutiny from their sloppy work on the endorsement list.

"Well, that is between each and every one of them and their God. Honestly, what can we expect? There is not one God fearing woman amongst the motley group; let alone a woman with the right maternal instincts," she delivers pompously.

"Rumor has it that the matriarch of Virginia is not at all happy about hue of Olivia Pope's presence but she is biting her tongue," he eyes Sally.

"I wonder how many other rock-ribbed, stalwart GOP members feel the same way. Maybe she should find out for herself," she hints.

Billy nods in agreement, "I can make that happen without any of the stench tainting your brand."

"See that you do," she replies. He stands to leave. "Billy, I know the union of this campaign ticket has tested your faith, but God will not forsake us."

"In God we trust," he responds.

* * *

Amanda trembles from the chair placed in front of the desk covered in loose papers and a medium sized stack of manila colored file folders. She checks her text messages, missed calls and voice mail. _Where is Billy? What do I do? How should I respond?_ She glances toward the right wall covered in campaign posters, polling data, event schematics. _How did I get here?_

The door swings open and Olivia Pope enters as if she arrived to the office on a chariot. Cyrus Beene is at her side. "Amanda…Amanda Tanner-correct?" she greets.

"Yes," she responds brushing her hair away from her forehead.

"This visit will not take long. Make no mistake…you are facing severe consequences for your devious behavior with the press packet. Inserting an unverified, unauthorized endorsement list," she shakes her head, "Extremely naughty," she chastises, "However, the audacity to involve Governor Grant's daughter…your political career; if that is what you are attempting to create…is over," she shakes her head.

Amanda shifts in her seat, "I did not…that was not my attempt. I was only the messenger," she stammers as explanation.

"I believe you…the question is who gave you the list," Liv asks.

 _What would Billy do? Lie and deny._ "I have no idea…the folder was on my desk…part of my tasks. I just compile the documents, run the copies and deliver," she states.

Olivia sighs, "I need a name Amanda. Without a name you will be responsible. Responsibility for this level of error will make finding employment hard."

"I do not have a name…isn't it obvious I am a scapegoat," she mounts a defense.

Liv takes a slow sip of her tea. She faces Amanda but she glances ever so often to her left. Cyrus is sweating bullets and fidgeting like an overworked hoe in church. "Without a name Amanda we will allow the American public to determine your character and what you're capable of doing in service to your crazed ambition. Who do you think they will believe given your twenty-two sexual partners; the horrible, nasty bout of gonorrhea; or your mother's two years at the mental institution…psychotic break. Could you be in the midst of a mental health crisis right now," she threatens with a saccharine nice-nasty façade.

Her resolve shatters, "I am a good person…why are doing this to me?" she pleads.

"I need a name Amanda. This is a limited one time offer. Give me the name of the person who put you in this position. Once I have the name you are permitted to submit your resignation and leave the campaign. Move to a small town…Minneapolis or St. Louis. Settle down with a Barney or a Doris depending on your preference…Build a quiet life of desperation," she instructs. _Cyrus ass has to have puckered by now._

Amanda chests heaves and she no longer attempts to control the tears, "Billy…Billy Chambers," she chokes out.

* * *

 **Afternoon**

"You are hovering," Abby delivers through clenched teeth. Her hair is gelled back in a severe ponytail. Her neutral colored blouse is buttoned to the top and tucked into basic black slacks.

"I am not…I am working alongside my colleague," Harrison replies.

She stops writing and looks across the desk, "I know what you are thinking…what you believe now that you know; but I am fine."

He looks up and lays the pen in his hand on the desk, "You have no idea but since you opened the door I am going to tell you. I don't just think or believe…I know you are brilliant and incredibly resilient. We are your gladiators too. So over the remaining 48 hour deadline Mr. Limp Dick was given I will remain at your side; Huck will remain on his ass in Virginia; Governor Grant will continue to extricate the name of Putney from the Republican Party and Olivia will Pope anything that moves funny," his eyes never leave her face.

Abby's eyes glaze with tears, "Fine," she replies sharply.

"Yes, you are fine too," he flirts.

* * *

 **Evening**

"Sally, please have a seat," Fitz gestures to the small, round conference table in his working office.

"Governor, if I understand correctly you were able to determine the member of your staff responsible for yesterday's disastrous news cycle," she shakes her head with disapproval.

Fitz moves from behind his desk to join her, "We have the resignation of one of the people accountable. We think it is best if you handle the press conference this evening to inform the public about the person actually responsible."

"With all due respect…that dog won't hunt. I will not diminish my name and reputation for your failure to vet and hire staff members with the moral rectitude worthy of a presidential campaign," she pushes back smugly.

He hands her a folder, "So be it…please read my statement before I take to the podium in," he checks his watch, "Fifteen minutes. I want you to have the full picture. The junior staffer will be at my side to corroborate my version of events. Her details are quite salacious," he threatens.

Her eyes devour the words quickly and her breath stops short, "If you think I will allow your pagan, RINO team of deviants to sully the name of a God fearing champion of the Republic and tarnish my brand in the process you underestimate me at your peril," she snarls.

"Not in the least. However, you continue to underestimate me. We have phone records and photographs. Once the press smells blood in the water they dig. Are you ready for them to start sifting through your closets?" Fitz allows the unspoken to linger before handing her a second folder.

Sally trembling hand reaches for the second folder, "I will not let you or the campaign down Governor Grant," she whispers in defeat.

"I never had a doubt. Please see yourself out," he gestures toward the door.

* * *

 **Night**

Olivia yanks her door open and hands Fitz a tumbler of scotch, "You look extremely happy for a candidate who barely escaped a campaign collapse," she taunts moving backwards so he can enter her room.

He eyes her over the rim of the glass he has lifted to his mouth, "Today was a good day. Abby is safe and based on Huck's report that threat is permanently neutralized. The Putney name is no longer and never will be again…part of the GOP. I made my values clear to the Establishment that men like them and my father are no longer welcome. Harrison's infrastructure strategy is outperforming the pollster's statistical model. Not that I will admit to her face; but my daughter is a political savant. Last but definitely not least…I am fighting the good fight…based on the right values with the brilliant, beautiful, sexy woman of my dreams at my side," he explains with exuberant pride.

"Is that so," she flirts joining him on the small love seat. She curls into his side with her glass of red wine while he loosens his tie.

He takes a sip, "Mm-hm…before we get to the naked part of our evening I need you to listen to me," his tone shifts. Liv pulls her face away from his neck and peers up at him. "If you ever make a unilateral decision to jump in front of or throw your body under a bus to save my political career or fix a political issue…you and I will engage in World War III-do you understand. I just found you and I am not losing you," his tone is unyielding.

Her eyes scour his face before locking into the fierce determination in his eyes, "Yes Mr. President," she replies. He places the tumbler on the side table next to him. He runs his hand up her thigh and grips her hip. His mouth ravishes her neck. She surrenders lost to his complete control of her body. The glass slips from her hand and spills onto the carpeted floor. _Today was a good day but tonight is even better._

* * *

Cyrus' mind drifts back to the events of his morning. Olivia Pope forced him to stand at her side while she dissected that girl with the precision of a highly skilled surgeon. He half expected his name to come out of Amanda's mouth. When she identified Billy Chambers Cyrus' relief was palpable. Now he was not even at square one. This scenario is fifty steps back and three feet under.

Cyrus' heart beats erratically. Clothes litter the floor, the mattress sits at an angle with sheets and blankets piled in the center. The burner phone is missing. He used the device this morning to warn and direct Hollis to do whatever was necessary to keep Mellie in line. He left a message for Mellie to assure her he had a plan B. _Where did I leave it…office…rental car? I cannot rest until the incriminating tool is back within my possession._


	18. Chapter 18

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part XVIII}

"Hey Gerry," Karen greets with enthusiasm.

"How's it going TV star?" he replies.

She sighs, "I am not a television star. I did one interview."

"I don't think so. Everyone is talking about it. You seem pretty popular to me," he retorts.

Karen takes a deep breath, "I didn't do it to be popular. Look, none of that is important. I called to see if you wanted to join us on the trail. Election Day is coming and our lives are going to be really different when it is over…you should be part of everything that is happening. I know for a fact that it would mean a lot to dad," she explains.

"Why? Does he need more loving father pictures to get more votes," he sneers.

"No Gerry…he wants more chances to be a loving father," she responds shaking her head. _Why is so cynical all the time?_ "I know mom and dad have been less than ideal but he really is trying; can't you give him a chance…maybe just a weekend," she pleads.

"What is in it for me?" _I won't be let down again._

She scoffs and loses all patience. "Why do you always have to have a pay off. You sound selfish, spoiled…ungrateful. I get it…we both gave up on anything that even remotely looked like love and support from our parents a long time ago. We spent more time in boarding school than most people spend in college. But, he is different now which means you can be different too. The campaign is moving to Defiance County, Ohio for the next two weeks…it is make or break. I hope to see you there," she hangs up without waiting for a response.

* * *

Mellie stumbles drunk down the hallway determined to stop the banging on her front door. All the curtains are drawn and she is not sure if it is day or night. She looks down at her outfit: sweat pants, UGG boots; a purple terry cloth bathrobe; and a chicken grease stained t-shirt emblazoned with the phrase 'Don't ask me for Shit'. "Who the fuck is it?" she shouts.

"Billy Chambers," the muffled voice responds from the outside.

 _This is definitely a surprise._ She swings the door open. "Welcome to hell fellow traveler," she turns and retreats back inside headed toward the kitchen.

Billy holds his nose. _Is she hiding a dead body…what is that God forsaken smell?_ "Good Lord woman, what has happened to you?" he questions in disgust.

"The same thing that happened to you…Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III and Olivia Pope…saw the press conference. Sally Langston gutted you like a fish," she laughs searching the cabinets for a bag of potato chips.

His face contorts in anger, "My exile is temporary. He won't win…I can play the long game and eventually Sally will need me. She always does," he attempts to convince himself.

Mellie laughs, "You are a blind ass hat," she shakes her head. "He is going to win and Sally is going to sell out the Grand Old Party in order to take my seat at the table so she can be the first female president," she states.

"Your seat," he probes. _So this is her play._

She falls into a chair at the kitchen table covered in empty and half full Mason jars of hooch, half eaten plates of food and candy wrappers. She is buzzed enough to ramble without filter or discipline. "I graduated at the top of my law school class…ahead of my former husband-the wunderkind Republican nominee. I was a partner at a top law firm when we joined in unholy matrimony. I know about the long game. I used every single piece of me to reach 1600. Hell, I had babies to stay in the long game. You know what I have to show for it? Not one motherfucking thing," she spews using her outstretch hands and arms to amplify her tirade.

"So what is the play now? We both know he is a charlatan and he only got this far because you were there to make it happen," he flatters. _Her ego is the size of the Dakotas keep stroking._

"Simple, complete and total destruction once the time is right. You want in?" _Mama ain't happy so no one else can be either._

* * *

Fitz sits in a hotel banquet room re-designed to resemble an Ivy-league office. Communications scheduled a series of local and national interviews to set the agenda for the final days of the campaign. Top surrogates are assigned to the remaining competitive states so he can focus every single moment on flipping Defiance County, Ohio. Olivia enters the room, "What in God's name is around your neck?" her eyes squint.

His left hand touches his Windsor knot, "My tie; however, based on your greeting I picked the wrong one."

"You committed a crime against fashion. Take it off," she gestures toward his neck.

He pushes his body forward in the leather wing-back chair and begins removing the offensive article of clothing. "Anything else you want me to take off?" he whispers once she is standing in front of him.

"Seriously…what is wrong with you?" she shakes her head opening the top two buttons on his dress shirt. "Better," she tilts her head from side to side.

"Nothing is wrong with me. I am simple responding to everything that is right with you," he smiles seductively taking in her shimmering brown eyes.

Liv shakes her head, "Listen, keep up the pressure on Cyrus; the paranoia is getting the best of him and he is getting sloppy. Plus, James Novak has not returned to the press pool," she divulges.

"You think his paper called him back or Cyrus sent him away after setting him up with the deep background quote?"

"Neither…Novak is smart. He will get revenge for being played. The question is will he target the campaign or just Cyrus."

Fitz switches gears. They have so few moments together he decides to make the most of it, "Kiss for luck?" he puckers his lips.

A smile tugs at her lips. _He is too adorable._ She glances at the open door way to make sure they are alone before delivering a quick peck to the tip of his nose. He laughs. "If you ace all these interviews I will put this mouth to use on one of your favorite spots," she stands and saunters out of the room.

He watches her exit; his eyes fixated on her ass. The voice inside of his head chants a sing-song tune: _I'm getting a blowjob…I'm getting a blowjob._

* * *

Cyrus moves down the hallway to check on the interviews. His emotions were fragile and his paranoia barely contained. He found the burner phone in the desk of his temporary office. He was not sure when he placed the device in the drawer but none of that mattered. After thorough inspection there was no evidence of tampering. Plus, the Governor decided to make Harrison lead the advance team to Defiance so he was no longer being watched. The abnormal campaign chaos felt familiar again. _Now I just need Hollis to deliver._

* * *

The elevator doors open to a floor housing the offices and cubicles for James' news paper. The barely contained chaos of phone calls, frantic writing, shouted conversation and moving bodies does not register his arrival. Papers protrude from the messenger bag slung across his body and he does nothing to hide his crumpled clothing. Once he reaches the glass door of his editor's office he cuts straight to the point, "There is still time on my 48 hour clock and this mandatory meeting is setting me back," he raises his voice in frustration.

"James take a seat…I would like for you to meet Agent Webster with the Federal Bureau of Investigation," the portly man gestures to a club chair.

James hesitates, "Why am I meeting with the FBI? Did Cyrus Beene call the FBI on me? Are you trying to trample the Constitutional Rights of the free press?" he faces off with the agent before turning toward his editor. "You are going along with this suppression?" he asks in disgust.

"Mr. Novak…I can assure you that our business here today can only strengthen the rights and reach of the free press," the striking African American woman attempts to assure the frazzled man.

"Sit down and listen," his editor directs.

James reaches for the strap on his shoulder pulling the bag over his head while lowering himself into the seat. _I think this story is bigger than I thought. Hello Pulitzer._

"I am going to speak freely because we already have a signed agreement with the owner and publisher of the news paper," she begins. "Governor Grant contacted our California Office to report possible voter tampering and campaign finance violations by members of his team. He provided a list of names and surrendered $15,000,000.00 in regular and soft money contributions. Our office opened an investigation; we requested and were granted surveillance authorization from a FISA Court. Your investigative reporting jeopardizes our operation," she explains.

James begins to breathe from his mouth and a film of sweat coats his forehead. "Wait…are your saying that campaign manager Cyrus Beene is under investigation by the FBI," the palms of his hands begin to itch.

"I will not confirm or deny any specifics at this time. Your editor agreed to embargo your story until our operation is complete," she is interrupted.

"I did not agree to anything. We can redact…you can provide statements on deep background; but I will not relent. This is the truth the country deserves," he responds with passion.

"I agree…but at what cost? Think of the ramifications to the country? Do you want to be responsible for tarnishing the sanctity of the vote? The United States of America is unique…we are bound to one another based on an ideal and the rule of law. Surely you do not want to derail a 200 year old proposition?" she challenges.

The room is silent bearing witness to patriotic contemplation of the eager, determined journalist. "How do you suggest we move forward?" he asks.

"The story stays embargoed. Your notes, recording, documents, whatever you have is now part of our chain of evidence. In exchange we will cooperate with your reporting once we authorize the release and you get the first question at our press conference," she presents.

James nods slowly, "What happens next?" he looks from her to his editor.

"Go back to the campaign trail and pretend nothing is happening. Do not…I repeat…do not approach any staffer-no matter how senior and wait for your editor's call," she directs.

* * *

The buzzing of Fitz's phone halts his light footsteps. He returns to his room after leaving a sated, sleeping Olivia for the night. "Hello," he whispers.

"Hey Dad," a quiet voice responds.

"Gerry…is that you? Is everything okay? Do you need something?" he rattles in quick succession.

"Uh…maybe…I guess…wondering really...if I could or would you like if I joined you for a few days…on the trail. Karen mentioned you might like that but…you might not...I guess I might want to see what it is like. She seems to like it," he trails off unsure and uncomfortable.

Fitz heart thuds against his chest. _This is chance…I can get him back._ "Son, nothing would make me happier than spending time with you. You are not obligated for any campaigning. Our time will be just the two of us. Do you have something specific in mind? I can re-arrange my schedule…do you still like chess or maybe basketball; really anything is fine with me," his enthusiasm is evident.

 _Maybe he really does want a connection._ "Uh…chess could be good. We haven't done that in a long time," he replies softly.

"I know and I am sorry. Give me a chance to fix my failings as a father. I will not let you down this time," he confesses.

"Oh," he pauses. Gerry had not expected this level of raw honesty. "Do you want to talk…now?"

"Sure, tell me about school? I have not met your roommate…how is that going," he inquires. _This is our new beginning._


	19. Chapter 19

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part XIX}

 **AN: First, to every reader who has nurtured a child...Happy Mother's Day! Next, the finale unleashed the Scandal Muse and I will move all the Georgia pieces together and post as an individual story. Thanks for all of those that hit favorite, follow, read and review. Finally, a special shout out to Clio1792!**

Harrison leans against the back wall in the all but forgotten auditorium of the aging high school. He divides his attention between his amusing and entertaining text conversation and the questions lobbied at Governor. "Who is showing you a good time?" Liv's voice breaks through his bubble.

He shakes his head, "No one-just wrapping something up," he offers vaguely. "Is it just me or is this Town Hall Meeting painfully slow?" he deftly changes the subject.

She glances over with a knowing side-eye and opens her mouth to respond but Fitz's response to the voter captures her attention. "Show me your numbers?" he responds. The middle aged man in the audience hands over a worn yellow legal pad.

"Your slogan says you are for the people and your tax plan will help small business on the margins but if you close this LLC pass through loophole that only benefits large corporations masquerading as small businesses the increased revenue would make a real difference," the man explains. He is dressed modestly in khaki Dockers and standard Costco blue checkered button down shirt.

Fitz moves toward the chalkboard scribbling figures. He is a Rhodes Scholar with a PhD which allows him to break down every minute detail of policy; adding just the right amount of political skill and a dash of charm to have the medium size audience eating out of the palm of his hand. Olivia cannot look away, "Please tell me you are recording," she requests.

"Already on it…damn, he got game," Harrison compliments.

"Mr. Meadows, was it?" The man nods. "My personal tax bill would increase by at least $500,000 but you would see a decrease not to mention the extension of Medicare and Social Security. I guess my only question is do you want your name on my revised tax policy?" he asks with a wide smile. The audience erupts clapping and cheering.

Olivia retrieves her phone, "Cyrus," she cuts him off, "I do not have time for drama. Gather the economic team…he just changed our tax policy raising the rates for himself and the other 1%. We can attack Reston on his willingness to pay his fair share under our plan. See you in an hour," she hangs up.

* * *

Jerry and Karen make their way down the buffet table grabbing sandwiches, chips and a soda. "What do you think so far?" she asks without looking over her shoulder.

He shrugs, "I mean…I really like the digital team. They don't treat me like a kid…and I definitely have to work. I can see why you like being out here."

They sit next to each other at the end of a table filled with staffers, "Do you think you might stay? You are at least tolerable," she teases with an eye-roll.

He laughs, "Maybe…probably…I don't know. Have you gotten use to the new dad yet?"

She laughs knowingly, "For the most part…some days he catches me off guard but the longer you are with him the more normal it becomes. I actually like being his princess even though I shouldn't because the nickname is the epitome of a cliché," she doesn't finish the thought turning to stare at her brother. "You are thinking about mom?"

"Yeah, she calls…I cannot figure out if she thinks I am too dumb to notice or she is too relentless to care how transparent her attempts to worm back on to the political stage are even to a casual observer. If I have to listen to one more speech about brainwashed children stabbing her in the back I may have to block her number." He takes a breath, "Do you feel bad about the interview?"

Karen is quiet. "I really wish I did or maybe I wish I should; but I don't. She chose to collude with Tanner and Chambers. If she wanted to run for office she could have but why sabotage dad's chances. At this point it doesn't matter. I hope you stay…I enjoy having a full-time brother," she admits the last part with a shy smile.

Jerry bumps her shoulder, "Thanks Kay-Kay." _Wow…I have not used that nickname in forever._

* * *

The Team sits among the scattered desks with the nightly news as a soundtrack to the causal dinner of Chinese food. "Reston is on his heels…the longer he takes to respond the worse he looks," Abby observes pulling noodles from her carton.

"He has big problems. Every voter knows the Governor is part of the 1% but Reston hid his wealth by juxtaposition, rhetoric and obfuscation. Now that his tax liability is exposed he has to respond to questions we have already answered; that gives us time to build momentum while he has to explain from a defensive position. We are on offense until election day," Olivia replies. _My man is a freaking political genius._

"I have been meaning to ask…how did you come with those numbers so quickly; not that I doubt your intelligence," Harrison asks.

Fitz chews slowly, "My original tax plan closed that loophole." He glances to his left.

Cyrus leaps from his chair throwing his arms open, "Yes…I removed the provision. I adhered to tried and true GOP tax policy. I kept the old money in the war chest…I worked the phones and kept this campaign afloat. I did my job. None of you…not one of you would be here if I had not held this entire operation together with my bare hands. I will not apologize…hell, the Governor fired Liv on her first day. I…" he points to his chest with his right index finger, "Made him hire her back. So how about a little gratitude," he rages before his lips curl in disgust.

They each glance at each other communicating the obvious with their eyes alone. _He is butt hurt. The paranoia is getting the best of him. He is a crisis away from cracking. Wait until he learns how much we already know._ They each mumble after each other, "Thank you Cyrus…You are the best campaign manager ever…We would be lost without you…What did we ever do to deserve you," before bursting into laughter.

"Fuck each and every one of you…and your mama's too," he points at each one before storming out of the room to their roaring laughter.

* * *

Justice Thornton rises from the ornate desk in her chambers to allow entry for her clandestine appointment, "You are Agent Webster from the FBI; I presume," she greets.

"Correct. My supervisor asked me to meet with you regarding a confidential matter with grave significance to our democracy," she restates.

"Yes…please have a seat," Verna gestures to the unoccupied chairs in front of her desk.

 _This web of lies should be interesting._ "I will need to record our conversation. Since you contacted us I doubt getting you on the record will be a problem," she clarifies.

"Please…by all means," she smiles returning to her seat. For reasons beyond her understanding Fitz and his Team blocked her from the inner circle. Suddenly her calls were returned by low level staffers. Her surrogate opportunities were limited and she was rarely included for exclusive events. Big Jerry had taken advantage and used her years ago. She would not make the same mistake with his naïve offspring.

"Not to sound condescending but I want to be clear…lying to a federal agent is a criminal offense punishable by fine and incarceration," Agent Webster begins.

Verna offers an obsequious smile, "Yes…I have not had one of those cases in awhile but I am confident I am fully aware of the statute."

"Great, let us get started. According to my notes you have information about the Grant-Langston campaign and illegal activity," she opens.

Justice Thornton shakes her head, "Unfortunately, I believe they are attempting to hack the voting machines." _Keep it vague enough not to raise suspicions._ "I overheard some conversations that do not sound kosher…to borrow a colloquialism," she introduces.

Agent Webster nods, "Did you participate in these conversations or do you know the names of the participants?"

"The discussions included his senior advisors and the main campaign contributor. His ex-wife is probably aware," she responds.

 _Damn if they are all a bunch of vipers…that fine ass man needs a good woman at his side._ "Justice Thornton what are your cell phone numbers?"

Verna's breathe stops short and her blinking slows, "My cell phone; I do not understand the relevance of that question?"

"Justice Thornton…lying to a federal agent is a felony offense. What are your cell phone numbers? And I must ask you to stop and reflect. Did you participate in these conversations?"

 _Fuck it all to hell…she knows…how does she know?_ "Fine, let's cut the bullshit. What kind of deal did you prepare? I am a highly respected federal judge and I want my legacy protected," she drops the façade.

"No bullshit…there is no deal. This meeting is an exercise in futility on your part and thorough field work for my operation," she deadpanned.

"You are young, bright…a ballsy bitch-I like that so I am going to help you out. If you want up the ladder fast then you want me to testify to bolster your case. You want your supervisor to think you flipped a federal judge. Now, let us use the remainder of our time working out the terms," Verna stares the agent down.

Webster leans back in the chair and folds her arms, "Show me what you got."


	20. Chapter 20

**Georgia On My Mind** {Part XX}

Fitz sits on the edge of the couch. His tanned arms decorated with thick veins freed by the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt rest on his thighs. Across the chess board placed on the coffee table is his son. Gerry knits his brow concentrating on his next move. They play in silence before he dares to speak, "Do you think about winning a lot?" Gerry opens the conversation.

Fitz looks at his son. _What is he really asking me?_ "This match with you…the election or life," he seeks clarification.

"Hmm…life I think because I am pretty sure I am winning this match," Gerry responds with a smile.

"Yes," he responds firmly.

Gerry looks up, "Are you winning or have you already won because you are going to become the President of the United States?"

Fitz pushes his body back on the couch to gather his thoughts, "I experienced a couple victories before but now…I am absolutely winning and the outcome of the election has very little to do with it."

Gerry tilts his head, "How? Granddad always said there can only be one winner. If you don't become POTUS how can you be a winner," his voice is colored with confusion.

"I disagree with his perspective. We have more money and privilege than most people in the world. We will always be okay without having to think or try because we were born a Grant. How is that winning?" he challenges. He watches the wheels in his son's head grind to a stop. "I am using the platform my birth provided to make lives better. Regardless of the outcome I can continue to do this work. Plus, more importantly, I am doing all of this based on my values," he concludes.

"I am not sure I understand but you might be right. I have all this stuff but I am not sure that is winning or what I am winning," he shrugs.

"I am sorry," he offers, "I have not come close to doing my job as a father but I will get better…just give me a chance," he pleads.

"What does that look like? Giving you a chance," he asks quietly.

Fitz gestures between them and around the room, "Time…more chess, movie nights; learning how much you love Greek pizza more than Italian…being present for you," he explains. "I cannot win even as POTUS if I fail you and Karen."

"So you really want me to stay…even if I never do a photo op or give a speech or staff a rally," Gerry pushes. _I am not a believer yet._

"Absolutely," Fitz confirms.

Gerry moves his chess piece nodding his head, "Okay…oh, and checkmate," he smiles.

* * *

Olivia, Abby, Harrison and Cyrus meet with the pollster team. "The election is one week away…give us your best numbers," Cyrus commands.

The young woman straightens her sweater, "The election is too close to call. The Governor's numbers inclined strongly once he changed the tax policy and the concentrated focus on Defiance County clearly closed the persistent gap but the numbers cannot guarantee anything other than losing is no longer a foregone conclusion," she explains soberly.

Harrison springs out of his chair, "We need a big push…a game changer but whatever we do has to be real…authentic," his ever present phone spins in his hand.

Everyone except Cyrus concentrates on a strategy forward. He contemplates how to extricate himself from treason. _He can win on his own? How do I get out of the deal with the devil without leaving so much as a fingerprint?_

Olivia paces back and forth, "Abby…develop a tentative schedule for Fitz to campaign on behalf of candidates regardless of party that support his policies…specific policies focused toward our outreach and unlikely voters. Those events create free media. Harrison…calculate how much money we have on hand to determine how much primetime media we can buy-radio and television," she instructs before leaving the room.

* * *

James returns to the press pool, "Hey…where you been? You have a scoop…care to share? Wow…I figured you were sent to the principal's office after the debacle with the endorsement list," his fellow journalists greet.

"Nice to see you jackals again…suffice it to say things are not always as they appear," he offers with a coy smile. _I cannot wait for the look on their faces when my story finally runs._ "So what did I miss?" he inquires. He listens to the solid reporting and the gossip. James' attention strays when he notices Cyrus watching him through the window. James winks and tunes back into the conversation. _I will enjoy keeping him guessing._

* * *

Olivia sits next to Fitz in the secure SUV moving down the interstate of Ohio. "Did she give any specifics regarding the investigation?"

"No…only a cryptic response about a game changer, accelerated time line and an offer of support during this difficult time," he summarizes his conversation with Agent Webster.

Olivia scoffs and mutters, "I bet she did." _Could she be any more obvious?_

"Anyway…you want me to do a sit down interview to give my final campaign address to the American people and share our Plan B?" he clarifies.

She turns and looks at him, "Yes…show them who you are and what you believe. Convince them that 'Grant for the People' is not just a slogan. Whether you make it to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue or not you will continue to fight for them. Remind them of the concrete outcomes that you can make real. If we couple that with the free media of you campaigning for Independents, Democrats and Republicans who pledge to vote with you it is a game changer. You would be the first President-Elect to enter office with the necessary votes to pass meaningful economic legislation within the first 100 day. Imagine giving the State of the Union based on what you have already done versus what you plan to do," Olivia argues passionately.

Fitz's eyes fill with wonder and love. _How did I survive this long without her?_ "I hope you realize that none of this would be possible without you by my side. I have a lot of work to do in order to be worthy of you," he does not get to finish.

Liv's warm brown eyes open to the real her, "Our journeys have been excruciating, devastating, life changing but worth the struggle to be here in this moment…given this chance. We are better together…I know that and trust our love."

He wants to gather her in his arms and kiss her senseless. He wants to rip the clothes from her body and bury himself so deep that she has no doubt of his profound love for her; but he can't. He settles for placing his left hand on the leather seat in the space between them and waits. She slides her hand into his lacing their fingers together and exhales.

* * *

Agent Webster adjusts her suit jacket, "Governor Grant, always a pleasure to see you again," she greets. _Could this man get more fine-damn?_ She is startled from her musing when another body emerges through the door. _"_ Oh, Olivia…hey…I was not made aware that you would participate in the de-briefing," she recovers quickly.

Before Olivia can open her mouth Fitz responds, "Agent Webster thank you for taking the time to keep us informed. Olivia Pope's presence and counsel is critical to my candidacy; therefore, please make sure she is included in all aspects of the investigation," he clarifies while gesturing to the chair next to him.

Liv lowers her body into the seat never taking her eyes off the FBI agent. "I will send the request up the chain of command," Angela replies.

"A request is not necessary. I already spoke with your supervisor in California. Now, let us get down to business." _I need to end this useless rivalry._

Angela stills her game face, "Due to the cooperation of recent targets and an informant we are accelerating the investigation. In addition to the admission by the hacker Justice Thornton agreed to testify. Based on their sworn affidavits a federal judge issued no-knock warrants to be served the day after the election. We do not want to undermine the credibility of a free and fair election. Now for the distressing development," she swallows. "Your ex-wife has been implicated and she may have involved Billy Chambers," she shares and waits for reaction.

Without thinking Olivia grasps his hand, "We can shield Gerry and Karen…give you time to prepare them," she addresses him. He nods his head staring at the floor. "How much jail time are we talking about?" she asks. Angela cannot tear her eyes away from their joined hands. Liv raises her voice in frustration, "Agent Webster…we need details…possible outcomes in order for the Governor to protect his children. Please answer our question," she demands.

She shakes her head and re-focuses, "Until everyone is deposed I refuse to speculate. She could get probation…possible house arrest or hard time. Thus far her involvement has been minimal but they are crabs in a barrel willing to pull each other down."

Fitz emerges from his dazed disbelief, "Would I compromise the investigation if I create distance between our campaign and Cyrus Beene?"

"As long as the appearance is business as usual or at least plausible we can work with whatever staffing decisions you make," she eventually replies.

Fitz stands with his hand safe within Olivia's grasp, "Thank you for your time and the information," he states before turning and exiting the room with Liv by his side.

* * *

Abby sways before the digital juke box in the mostly vacant lounge of the hotel. Upon arrival she slammed two shots of tequila. Slowly but surely she is returning to herself but in this moment she battles the scared and broken version she use to be. A familiar hand reaches from behind her selecting a track before whispering in her ear, "Dance with me Red," Harrison requests.

She turns and studies his eyes for any hint of pity. Finding none she steps into his embrace exhaling before placing her head on his shoulder; and her hand in his. He moves them expertly across the deserted dance floor.

 _ **You took me back in time when I was unbroken…Can I be him?...I heard there was someone but I know he don't deserve you…If you were mine I'd never let anyone hurt you, no, no…Can I be the one?**_


	21. Chapter 21

**Georgia on My Mind** {Part XXI}

Cyrus readies for the day wiping the sweat from his brow desperately trying to breathe normally although his adrenaline continues to push all bodily functions to the breaking point. The election is three days away and there are a million things to accomplish and not enough hours to get it all done. The energy of the campaign is electric. Any campaign manager would experience inhuman stress but he compounded his situation by willingly participating in a conspiracy to commit treason.

In addition to coordinating surrogates; responding to press requests; and allocating resources he is desperately destroying evidence. The night before he snuck down to the main headquarters to shred documents and dispose of them in the dumpster behind a seedy motel a few miles away. He also used the opportunity to drive over his burner phone twice and smash the broken pieces with a hammer. He breathed a sigh of relief at the time but he had no guarantee if his efforts were enough. _Fake it 'til you make it._ He chanted to himself before exiting the room.

* * *

Fitz closes the blinds to his office before sauntering over to lean against his desk and wait. Moments later the door opens and he looks up when he hears the lock engage. "You are late. I believe punishment is in order," he speaks up with a roguish smile.

"I think that hideous tie is punishment enough. Honestly, are you doing this on purpose," she gestures around his neck.

He stands removing the tie and raising the collar of his crisp white shirt. Olivia pulls a light blue tie with the thick and thin navy and black diagonal strips around his neck expertly executing the perfect Windsor knot. His hands rest on her hips; his eyes roaming her face in fascination. _We are going to start every morning just like this._

"So…I spoke with the networks and we can cut costs if we do the interview live. The advertisers will engage in a bidding war which pads the big three's profits; not to mention the buzz and momentum created for you candidacy leading up the vote. What do you say…ready to show the world just how big time you are," she challenges.

"Hmm," he pretends to ponder. _This woman knows how to get me going…mind, body and soul._ "I assume this will require late night prep sessions and deep de-briefing with my Communication Director," he offers seductively.

"Obviously my schedule is wide-open for any and all of your needs leading up to the climatic event," she banters back smoothing the fabric of the tie before looking up at him with wide eyes.

Fitz leans down and whispers in her ear, "Thank you future First Lady."

She blushes with a bashful smile, "You are exceedingly welcome Mr. President," she whispers in return.

* * *

Harrison waits in the rental car parked between two 18-wheel trucks located behind a big box store. The light tapping on the window draws his attention causing him to exit the vehicle. "Agent Webster," he greets moving toward the trunk of the non-descript sedan.

"Mr. Wright, what was so urgent," she replies.

He opens the trunk and hands her a large, black garbage bag. "Mr. Beene disposed of this bag of shredding last night. Doesn't your agency have staff that can re-constitute the documents?"

Her head snaps back in surprise, "I must say your team is impressive but I should expect nothing less from Olivia Pope. Our surveillance had stalled in recent days but destruction of evidence is all the catalyst we need to initiate the 'no knock' warrants," she explains.

Harrison freezes, "Thanks for the heads up," he pivots rushing back to the car dialing Huck at the same time.

* * *

Olivia commands the press core from the podium fielding questions; changing the narrative; hinting at leads she hopes they follow. She prepares to close the briefing when Abby enters and whispers in her ear. They share a look and a nod before Liv returns her full attention to room full of eager hands. "I have one last announcement…Governor Grant agreed to a live event tomorrow night…we are not providing details at this time but we recommend you keep your schedule open. Thank you all for coming," she moves from behind the podium and out the door. The reporters shout over each other and push forward trying to pry a detail out of her retreating form.

The group turns to Abby, "Do not even waste your breath…I got nothing I am willing to give up," she retorts. Their shoulders deflate as they gather their items to proceed out of the room. After half the group is gone Abby makes her move, "Novak, please follow me," she gestures with her head.

James looks around the room watching the journalists that remain observing the verbal exchange. He moves quickly juggling his bag and phone, "What is going on?" he whispers once he reaches her side. She does not respond but he follows with trepidation. _Do they know?_

* * *

Hollis Doyle may be an old country boy but he is not a new fool. He could smell the bad coming and he was getting out before the stench got on him. "Listen to me, prepare my plane…international flight plan…keep it open-ended," he orders the private plane service provider. He dials the next number on the list, "Don't ask a lot of questions. I need as much of my assets as possible off shore and liquid in the next 24 hours…wait for my call," he hangs up before hearing the response. He calls out to the household staff, "Am I packed yet?" They do not respond. He moves down the stairs and his boots skid to a stop.

"Hollis Doyle," the female African American agent hands him a document. "You are hereby served with a federal warrant to search all of your residences and places of business. All domestic and foreign financial accounts are frozen. Please hand over all electronic devices. You have a right to remain silent…"she continues but he does not hear anything but the cascading thoughts of destruction in his head. _How the hell did this happen?_

* * *

James follows Abby entering the Governor's campaign office. His eyes roam the room searching for clues trying to decipher what is coming next. A strong baritone voice interrupts his musing, "Mr. Novak, thank you for taking my request," Fitz greets.

"Your request?" he stammers in confusion.

"Yes, I would like to you to accompany me to Virginia. I have a surprise campaign event and an exclusive story opportunity if you are interested," he shares.

"Excuse me if I am skeptical but why me?" he pushes.

"You and I both know why. Are you in or out?" he states.

James pauses and his brain runs at warp speed. _Holy shit…they know everything. How much did they orchestrate?_ "I'm in," he replies eagerly.

Fitz nods, "Harrison," he gestures with his head.

Harrison moves out of the shadows in the corner of the room. "Grab your things and meet me at the freight elevator. We leave for the airport in 45 minutes you will be briefed you in the car," he explains quickly crossing to the door.

* * *

Fitz launches into his closing remarks. "Remember 218 & 60…those are the votes we need to put America back to work and reform our justice system so we can create a more perfect Union," he declares into the microphone. "Susan Ross is one of the 60…a vote for her is a vote for you. A vote for her is a vote for your paycheck…your community…your state. Send Susan Ross to the Senate," he projects. The crowd chants in response…Grant! Ross! Grant! Ross!

Susan Ross joins him on stage. He takes her hand raising both their arms in triumph. They exit the stage. "Good luck Susan…I have great faith in you," he shares.

She releases a bizarre laugh, snort, giggle, "This is surreal…don't you think this is weird? I mean you are going to be POTUS and you want me to be a senator. Why? I still do not get it…do you?" she questions.

He stares at her for a beat too long. _She is a complete neophyte._ "Susan, our party needs to be better and do better. In order for that to happen we need better candidates with authentic values…you are that kind of candidate," he re-assures her.

James observes the exchange writing frantically in his notebook. Susan Ross is an anomaly. She was not on anyone's radar yet the possible President-Elect left his trail to campaign for her. _Why?_ He interviewed her campaign staff including the manager. Leo Bergen...a big dog campaign manager that does not take a phone call without a check attached. _There is more to this picture._

They are secure in the SUV moving down the interstate when Governor Grant addresses the intrepid reporter directly. "The Putney name in politics is legendary…until now. Charles Putney is a violent, misogynist that can no longer be a member of my Republican Party," he explains. Harrison hands over a sealed folder. Fitz continues, "Your skill plus the accumulated evidence should make for an explosive expose. Do your worst…I do not expect him or his father to come back from this ever. Am I clear?" his voice his menacing and his eyes are dark.

James gulps, "I will not let you down Sir," he stammers.

"I do not believe you will. Harrison stays with you and serves as my proxy," he states as the car slows to a stop at the executive airport.

* * *

Cyrus grips his left bicep repeatedly. The tingling sensation will not subside. He continues to search frantically with his eyes. He has not seen Harrison, James or the Governor for most of the day. He stands in the middle of the main campaign hub. Volunteers phone bank; aides deliver lawn signs; and surrogates return from campaign events flush with endorphin highs. The path to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue could not be more clear…victory is within reach. "Has anyone seen the Governor?" he shouts into the room of chaos.

"According to the schedule change he is on his way back from Virginia," an unknown voice responds.

"Yeah Cyrus," Abby appears at his side. "He, Harrison and James spent the day in Virginia participating in a candidate rally and an exclusive story."

The tingling intensifies. "Exclusive…I thought we agreed to let Virginia work out their internal party battle without our interference," he questions.

Abby shrugs, "New candidate is a reliable part of the 60 and Novak is doing a personal favor for the Governor. Given the endorsement fiasco seems smart to keep him receptive to our message. Would you not agree?" she taunts.

 _Exclusive story…James' byline…Virginia…Mellie is in Virginia…_ Cyrus' breath is labored…his chest tightens…his line of sight narrows…his hearing is muffled. He can feel himself falling but neither his body nor his mind function. The last thing he hears clearly, "Someone call 911…Cyrus is having heart attack."


	22. Chapter 22

**Georgia on My Mind** {Part XXII}

 **Election Eve**

Fitz enters the hospital room and smiles at the older woman sitting at the bedside of Cyrus Rutherford Beene. The political strategist appears to be asleep. She stands, "Governor Grant, you have been so kind. I cannot thank you enough for arranging my travel," she stands to greet him.

"Alice, please…no thanks are necessary," he gestures for her to keep her seat. "What is the prognosis?" They are interrupted by the patient.

"Stop talking about me," he snaps. "I am fine…all this is unnecessary," he attempts to get out of bed unable to stay upright he falls back heavily. "I have an election to win," his breathing is labored.

She releases a heavy sigh. Fitz's eyes bounce back and forth, "Alice why don't you take this time to stretch your legs; get a snack or a cup of coffee. I will keep our stubborn patient company," he charms.

Once the door closes both men drop the façade. "What are you doing here? You should be at a rally or in front of a camera. Now is not the time to let up," Cyrus commands.

"Cyrus, you need to relax and follow the doctor's orders. You had a heart attack. The campaign is in excellent hands. As a courtesy I wanted to let you know Olivia is taking over," he faces his longtime political partner.

Cyrus' brain cannot comprehend the message delivered by the Governor. He presses the button to move his body to a more upright position. "Are you…son-of-a-bitch? Did you show up at my bedside to fire me?" he spits.

Fitz fixes his eyes on the man, "Thank you for your service…not for just this election but the others as well. Unfortunately this campaign exposed our divergent values, strategies and goals. I need my entire team to reflect what I believe as a candidate. I will explain to the Press Pool that you are focused on recovery. Good luck to you," he states.

"How dare you?" he rasps. "You have only gotten this far because of me. I am the king maker. You are nothing more than an entitled, baby kissing, nice head of hair. I shredded my integrity…sold my soul to the devil…the loyalty I demonstrated…for you to toss me out like a pile of dog shit," he spews before trailing off.

Fitz shakes his head, "Do not blame me for who you are. If I am not mistaken politics is your heroin, hallelujah and reason for living. If I recall I do not have a fraction of what it takes for the back door deal making. The reality is that this campaign…my candidacy proves you are wrong…Big Jerry was wrong. Your deplorable choices and tactics are not because of politics but because of who you are and who you have always been. You would be this vicious viper no matter what career you chose. Own your shit," he grits out.

Cyrus mouth parts to retort but he cannot find the words. He is silenced by the truth. He pauses to examine his thoughts and feelings. His musings are disrupted by his mother's voice, "Cyrus, do you need more ice chips?"

"What? Where is the Governor?" he asks.

"Son, he left…he has to finish the campaign. I am so glad I got the chance to meet him. He actually kissed me on the cheek when I told him I already mailed in my vote for him. He is going to be an excellent President. I am proud you were part of the campaign," Alice shares.

* * *

Harrison and Fitz enter the radio station. "Do you have any advice or instructions for me? Olivia and Abby usually have a list of do's or don'ts," he asks.

He shrugs, "Keep it real…at this point in my opinion you, me, all of us already won."

Fitz turns and studies Harrison's face. _He honestly believes what he is saying._ "I could not have done it without you. The infrastructure plan and strategy was all you and never forget that no matter the outcome of tomorrow's vote," he emphasizes.

Harrison nods without looking up. The conversation is broken by the Urban Radio host, April Ryan, "Governor Grant, I am excited for this opportunity," she greets.

"My pleasure…let's get started," he replies.

The one hour interview comes to a close, "Governor we only have a short time left so unfortunately I have to deal with the part you hate…," she laughs.

He groans, "Thank you for focusing on my policies and our 218-60 Build America legislation. What must you ask?" rolling his eyes.

"You started the campaign as a family man and now you are single father of two. The questions my listeners, mostly female, want to know…how much longer" she teases.

He laughs, "I think that question is premature," he responds.

"I disagree," she places pictures in front of him. "To my listeners I presented the Governor with pictures of him from the campaign trail. Now, the first is from a rally, the second from a mega fundraiser and the final from the campaign bus," she describes.

Fitz slowly gazes at each photo fighting the giant grin that wants to break across his face. The first shows him giving Liv a piggy back ride over a mud puddle to save her Chanel boots; the second is the two of them dancing. He can still feel the warmth of her skin under his hand from the cut out in the red dress clinging to her generous curves. The last picture is a surprise. They are both asleep. Her head rests on his shoulder and his head rests on top of hers. He clears his throat to buy time and glances over at Harrison. _Keep it real._ "Uhm…a campaign last for at least a year or more and my campaign for the presidency included the dissolution of a marriage and the death of my father. My team became my found family. Olivia Pope was by my side for all the ups and every single down. She is best friend…plain and simple," he looks up at the host.

April cocks her head back and fixes him with a side-eye, "Alright…listeners I am going to post these pictures and you can decide if these two are just besties…'cause I'm just sayin'…I do not buy that explanation…but we will see. I want to thank you for your time today and good luck with the election."

"Thank you…your listeners; and God Bless the United States of America," he replies with a chuckle.

* * *

The senior staff moves about the chartered plane coordinating reservations, guest passes, VIP seating, and confirming logistics for Election Night festivities. Fitz moves away from the frenzy of activity to find his children. He leads them to bedroom cabin. "How are you two holding up? I know things are barely controlled chaos but all this is almost over," he gestures vaguely.

"To be honest I am having a good time," Gerry speaks up. Fitz's eye brows rise. _Whoa…progress._

"Tomorrow night the results will be in and our lives will be different. I want to talk to you now about our options as a family. I need your honesty," he introduces. Karen glances at her brother before nodding. "Regardless of outcome I am moving to Washington, D.C. either 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue or somewhere in Georgetown. I would be thrilled to have both of you with me but I understand if you do not want to make the change," he explains.

"Why would you move to D.C. if you are not POTUS?" Karen asks.

"I meant what I said on the campaign trail. If I win then I can directly introduce my policies and legislation. If I don't I am going to Capitol Hill and push every member of Congress and the Senate that pledged to vote with me as President to follow through. I am going to get a win for the American people regardless of title."

"Don't we have to spend time with Mom?" she questions.

Fitz inhales, "About that…I am going to treat you like mature young adults. A number of people previously associated with the campaign indulged in behavior outside the law. Your mother is one of those people. Law enforcement is expected to address the matter after the inauguration. The details are ugly and the consequences are potentially severe. My team has a plan to shield you as much as possible but things are going to be rough. I am sorry," his eyes are remorseful.

"What would things be like in D.C. for us as a family?" Gerry asks.

He smiles, "I am glad you asked Son," he replies.


	23. Chapter 23

**Georgia on My Mind** {Part XXIII}

Olivia wrapped in her sunny yellow terry cloth robe sits on the edge of the bed in the guest house of Grant Ranch the sound of the morning news coverage her only companion.

 **General Election too close to call…Will Grant surprise the prognosticators in Defiance, Ohio? Reston's 1% response obfuscates his actual net worth…Labor Union households breaking for Grant…Build America lawn signs, buttons and shirts littering the American landscape from coast to coast**

The ringing phone pulls her out of her daze, "Hi," his deep morning voice greets.

"Hi," she sighs contentedly.

"So, what is new with you? Anything exciting?" he inquires facetiously.

"Not much…trying to get this old geezer elected President. What are you up to?" she responds in kind.

He shifts his bent arm under his head and pillow getting more comfortable. He has yet to climb from under the sheets. He can still smell the remnants of her perfume from their late night cuddle session. He chuckles, "Watch your tone young lady. This old guy can still put you down for the count. Do I need to remind you before we start our day?" he instigates.

She swallows before uncrossing and crossing her legs. _I cannot start my day primed to jump his bones._ "Are you freaking out about the election results?" she taunts playfully.

"Nope," he replies quickly.

"No…have you lost it or accepted your fate," she retorts.

"Not in the least. Win, lose or draw I get to start my life with you. I already won. The Oval is icing at this point," his voice is resolved.

Liv's mouth hangs open. "No pressure there but you do realize that what I bring to the table cannot begin to measure up to leading the free world. There is absolutely no way I can stay on top of a pedestal that high." The pace of her heart beat quickens.

"I will make a deal with you. I will take you off the perfection pedestal if you remove me from your pure idealism pedestal," he counters.

She opens her mouth to deny his claim but stops short. She begins to grapple with the truth of his statement. The courage and bravery of defying old school politics, policies and tactics causes her to view him through the McDreamy looking glass. Olivia clears her throat, "How about we both climb down together?"

"Good plan. I appreciate you showing me a good time but I need to get up and vote for myself before I ask everyone to do the same."

She burst into laughter, "Excellent plan soon to be President-Elect."

* * *

Huck lays out the thick plastic in the bathroom discarding the dingy, tattered clothing he refused to relinquish. He picks up the shearing scissors and cuts away as much of the overgrown beard as possible. Finally he slips the switch on the razor and executes the perfect buzz cut. He will never be unbroken but he is comfortable enough with his found family to live normal adjacent.

After a thorough shower he emerges from the steam clean and clearer than ever. He stares at his new soldier uniform: denim pants, a black t-shirt covered by a plaid button up and black Chuck Taylor's. He rolls the last evidence of 'Homeless Huck' in the heavy plastic and takes the freight elevator to the back exit and the dumpster area. _I alone can keep them safe._

* * *

Gerry sits at the kitchen island devouring a breakfast sandwich. "Wow, who knew you had any cooking skills." Karen is plating egg white and turkey sausage sandwiches on toasted sourdough.

"I am as shocked as you are. My range is limited to sandwiches but I think I can work my way up. Marta said I am not hopeless-so there is that," she laughs at herself.

"Do you know what we are doing today besides going with Dad to vote?" he questions with a mouthful of food.

She hands him a napkin and shoots him a look of disapproval for his lack of table manners. "I do in fact. I am Olivia's deputy for the first few hours so do not make me use my authority," she waves the spatula in one hand at his face and taps her ever present clipboard with the index finger of her free hand.

"Dad!" Gerry yells, "Hurry up…Karen has 'Pope Power' and she is ready to use it," his eyes widen slightly.

Rushed footsteps trot down the stairs, "What's going on?"

"Kay-Kay is in charge until Liv can take over," he explains.

Fitz grabs a sandwich filling his mouth with a huge bite. He chews twice before beginning to speak around the food, "Let's go," he instructs headed toward the door. _I am not sure which is worse. Level three tornado K or off the charts tornado Pope._

They reach the secure SUV, "Ladies first," he gestures toward the vehicle with his left hand and pauses Gerry with his right.

The screaming is infectious. He surprised Karen by sneaking in her BFF: Bishop Washington. "How did you get here? The whole day…Both Dynamic Duos in the same place at the same time- this is epic!"

Fitz sticks his head in the open car door, "Gerry and I are right behind you. Enjoy your 'girl time'" he smiles at their delighted faces.

"You are the best dad-ever," she blows him a kiss.

"Thanks again Governor G," Bishop responds in glee.

* * *

Cyrus tips the delivery driver at the door and heads back to the living room. Election Day is his Super Bowl and he is watching from home. He convinced the hospital staff he hired home-hospital care to gain early release and promised to call his mother and a designated time each day before dropping her off at the airport with an endearing embrace. _I have not spent an Election Night as a civilian since I was a child._ His angst is interrupted by the doorbell, "I do not want to be disturbed!" he yells to no one in particular.

He angrily snatches the door open and opens his mouth in shock. The former Mrs. Grant stands on his not so welcome mat. She is literally and physically stripped bare. Her limp, brown locs brush her shoulders and the blouse, sweater and jeans are a haphazard combination at best. "I took a chance. This is happening? Is this real?" she questions is disbelief.

He nods, "This is real Kiddo…we are living out the fractured Cinderella story where the Fairy Godmother never shows up," he gestures inside. She follows him into the living room after he closes the door. "I have a buffet of all the foods the doctor told me I could not have and all the liquor I could never afford," he explains.

She squints, "What?"

"The heart attack was real…busted out of the hospital today. The disloyal son-of-a-bitch you married actual came to my bedside to fire me."

 _I guess he has some Big Jerry in him after all. Total dick move._ "I am only slightly surprised because the Grant men will fuck or fuck over anything or anyone to get to what they want. Since we already know the outcome before everyone else; how much of an ass do you feel like for committing treason and having not one thing to show for it?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about. I have not spoken with Hollis Doyle not that it matters. When I left the campaign the polling data suggested the campaign could win legally. Probably smallest margin in history but a legitimate victory nonetheless," he shares.

Mellie's mouth falls open, "Seriously…what are the odds. How?"

"I will never admit it and if you ever write a 'tell all' I will deny…deny…deny. Olivia Pope and her Gladiators," he uses air quotes, "made the impossible possible with a fierce determination I have never witnessed before-nothing short of once in a lifetime political magic."

She rolls her eyes, "You brought her in and acted like she walked on water. He fired her and you made him bring her back. Are you proud of yourself?" she challenges. "Olivia Pope is a demon spawn that destroyed our lives and denied us what we earned. We carried his pathetic, broken spirit for years."

"Are you proud of yourself? The ill-conceived, short sighted, easily debunked miscarriage stunt gave her leverage she would have never had," he pushes back.

"We could have survived if you had any kind of political balls. How did she come to stand at the right hand of King Grant when you occupied the space for years? What did she have that you didn't?" she raises her brow in challenge. The silence speaks the truth that neither will ever admit to themselves let alone anyone else. They do not have the values or talent to match the raw ambition and desperation for power that fuels every choice they make. Their broken souls created holes within that can never be filled.

Cyrus rubs his head causing his hair to stand on end. "Doesn't matter now…they get to live happy ever after," he concludes.

Mellie scoffs, "I am always underestimated. If I do not get my happy ever after…no one does."

He turns and studies her posture and sinister eyes. "What did you do?"

"Let's just say that 218-60 may not be as secure as he thinks it is; not to mention that the hue of his current staff is not reflective of the Republican Party we know and love. He will have to make some changes if he wants a chance at implementing his policies. The Southern Strategy is an oldie but a goody," she winks.


	24. Chapter 24

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part XXIV}

 **Election Night**

Karen and Gerry stand on stage sharing a podium preparing to introduce the Republican nominee for President of the United States. They speak one after the other. "You work really hard…You taught us so much…You took care of our dad," they offer sincerely. "You make him sound really smart…You even make him funny," they tease and the crowd laughs.

"You are now part of our childhood memories," Karen sniffles.

"We will be better people because of you," Gerry improvises and smiles bigger.

"So, since we still have a curfew…And, we worked hard too and want to enjoy the party…Welcome to the stage…Our dad, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III," they conclude in unison. The crowd in the Grand Ballroom of the event venue cheers wildly waving 'Grant-Langston'; 'Grant for the People'; 218-60; and Build America placards.

Fitz ascends the steps with giant strides. He greets his son with a headlock hug and embraces his daughter around the shoulders with a tender kiss to the stop of her head. He watches them retreat to the wings before standing behind the podium. "Thank you…thank you…I appreciate each of you so much," he speaks into the microphone.

"Thank you…We love you…Grant for the People," the attendees shout and whistle.

He nods in gratitude waving and gesturing with thumbs up to the jubilant crowd. He clears his throat, "First, I need to apologize to my brilliant speechwriting team. Your remarks for tonight are amazing but in this moment I need to speak from my heart." _I am finally standing in my truth._ "I will never find the right words or combination of sentences to fully express how grateful I am to each person in this room and every person across this great country that decided to put their faith in me to make their life better. Whether you simple voted for me in a primary or the general election…sent a donation or took precious time away from your life to volunteer…put up a lawn sign or bought campaign gear…please believe that I intend to spend all of my time, energy and limited talent working on your behalf regardless of tonight's outcome. Come January that work will be in Washington, D.C. either from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue or storming the Halls of Congress and the Senate as a private citizen…the government of the United States of America is going to deliver for you," he emphasizes. The crowd goes wild at a decibel close to deafening.

He looks up over the crowd searching until his eyes land on his Team. Huck with hunched shoulders and hands stuffed in his pockets stands next to Harrison who rests his hands on Gerry's shoulders. Abby rests her weight on her right leg with her arms loosely folded and Karen's head leaned against her arm with her best friend, Bishop, at her side. _Where is Livvie?_ His eyes dart around the room until the hair on his arms rises and the exhilaration of her presence turns his head to the right. Olivia stands in the wings shaking her head slightly a smile of pride and admiration brightens her beautiful face. He returns his attention to the room. "I need to thank my children for coming out on the road with their old man. I love you both…This campaign weathered never before seen challenges and astonishing successes. If we are victorious my Team is the reason why. Harrison, Abby and Huck…you are the best version of patriotism and I can never be grateful enough," The crowds responds by chanting, "Gladiators…Gladiators!"

"Last but certainly not least I need to attempt to thank the person we all know made tonight possible…Olivia Pope…Gladiator extraordinaire. She is brilliant, fierce and the living embodiment of our Founding Father's core principle-We the People. I owe you everything," he turns to face her. The poignant silence of room pulses with anticipation of his next words.

Olivia's body trembles. _What is he doing? Don't you dare?_ She shakes her head quickly and attempts to fight the smile her face can barely contain. Fitz confidently steps away from the podium one deliberate swagilicious stride after another. She shakes her head harder and mouths, "What the hell are you doing?" He continues to stalk across the stage toward her body hidden in the wings until he stands before her with that devilish smile she will never be able to resist. "What the hell are you doing?" she whispers.

"The right thing," he responds. He takes her by the hand and drags her across the stage to stand next to him at the podium. The crowd erupts in a raucous cheers, "Pope…Liv…White Hat."

"Tonight, we will celebrate regardless of outcome. God bless you and our country," he starts the standard closing remarks and Olivia breathes a quiet sigh of relief. "Oh, one more thing," he nods his head toward Olivia, "I thought you would like to meet the future First Lady of the United States of America," he announces. The crowd goes ape shit.

Liv pivots toward him and opens her mouth to scold him, "Fitz…Fitz," she tries to finish her sentence but she can only produce giddy giggles. He moves in for the kiss and she cups his face trying foolishly to stop Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III on a mission. _Give up the struggle…resistance is futile._ Their eager mouths come together in a deep, loving, sweet, sensuous kiss. They lose themselves in one another. Her fingers tangle within his chestnut curls and his large hand holds her head by the jaw firmly in place.

Gerry turns to Huck who shrugs his shoulder. He looks up at Harrison, "How?"

Harrison shakes his head and chuckles, "Balls…Presidential Balls."

The ladies high-five each other, "Finally…Took 'em long enough," Abby and Karen state.

Bishop leans forward glancing at them, "I have waited to say this…I told you so," she nods in victory.

* * *

Cyrus and Mellie are sloppy drunk watching the wall-to-wall news coverage of the two campaigns. The current reporting focused on Reston's headquarters.

 _ **Lestor, as you can see behind me the mood in the room is somber. Staffers, volunteers and donors mingle quietly and watch polling data on the monitors stationed about the venue. Occasional cheers erupt as states light up blue but the consistent news feed of 'Too close to call' casts significant doubt on a campaign that believed victory was firmly in their grasp. All eyes remain on Defiance County, Ohio.**_

Mellie's thin lips smack down on a fried chicken drumstick, "This is taking too long…why this isn't over yet?" she gestures with the food in her hand.

"We are being punished for our hubris," Cyrus responds with brownie crumbs tumbling from the corners of his mouth.

"Ugh," she drops the clean bone onto the platter. "I would be giving my acceptance speech by now. But noo…I have all the brain power and skills to run the free world but not the right equipment," she slurs.

His brow quirks in her direction, "Equipment?" he questions.

"Yeah…a dick…if I had a penis you would have been running my campaign. I wouldn't have needed him. I was first in our law class; at Harvard. I ran circles around those entitled pricks," she explains in a huff.

Cyrus chuckles, "You think anatomy really makes a difference?" he glances between his legs.

"Of course you can't want to suck one…or prefer it up your ass…sorry," she shrugs.

He lifts himself off the couch swaying, "Hold that thought," he directs before disappearing deeper into his home. He returns to the room and announces his presence, "Catch."

Mellie quickly places her drink on the messy coffee table and uses both hands to retrieve the item from the air. She looks down then up and burst into laughter. She clumsily stands and steps into the black strapped apparatus positioning the purple device over her pants. "How do I look?" she pivots back and forth.

Cyrus falls into the couch laughing, "Like the standard candidate…Perfect Prick of the United States of America," he continues. Their sarcastic banter is halted by the Breaking News.

 _ **Fox News can report that in an upset the Grant Campaign flipped Defiance County, Ohio…**_

Cyrus snatches up the remote and changes the channel…

 _ **ABC News can report the President-Elect of the United State of America is Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III…he won Ohio by the smallest margin in history…If the numbers hold he will escape the re-count requirement**_

He changes the channel again…

 _ **Norah, forget the results and all the process speculation…Can we talk about that kiss? My lady bits are tingling…President-Elect Grant laid Olivia Pope out…**_

Mellie and Cyrus heads whip toward each other in shock and they speak over each other, "Why didn't you tell me?" she shouts.

"Why didn't you tell me? Surely you were responsible for where he kept his dick," he shouts in return.

She begins to pace back and forth replaying the events of the past year. He sits on the couch squinting at the floor piecing together all the clues he missed due to his divided focus. _Managing a conspiracy to commit voter fraud took my eye of what was happening under my nose._

Their private turmoil is broken by the sound of cracking wood of the front door torn from the hinges and landing on the hardwood flooring. "My name is Agent Webster with the Federal Bureau of Investigation…I am here to serve a warrant for the arrest," her voice trails off. She enters the room and her eyes widen in shock. _I have seen some shit in my day but what level of freakiness am I dealing with here?_

The room fills with male and female officers covered with the standard blue windbreaker emblazoned across the back in yellow capital letters: FBI. She re-covers quickly, "Cyrus Rutherford Beene and Millicent Vaughn you are both under arrest for voter fraud and conspiracy to commit treason against the United States of America," she states.


	25. Chapter 25

**Georgia on My Mind** {Part XXV}

 **Inauguration**

The President-Elect of the United States and his Chief of Staff wait in the staging area for the Oath of Office ceremony to begin. Olivia attaches a small flag pin to his lapel. "I bought this at auction…it belonged to Eisenhower. It is very rare…only 48 stars," she explains.

"You didn't have to," she cuts him off.

"I wanted you to have something special on your day," she continues.

"You are my something special-every day," his large hands caress her torso and hips. He takes one small step back reaching inside his suit jacket, "You are wrong about one thing…today belongs to both of us. None of this would have been possible if we had not come together. This day is the beginning of us changing the world," he holds out his left hand palm side up. Olivia looks at the small leather box and then back up at his loving, blue eyes. "It's your ring…very old, very rare. It even has a name-Doux Bebe. It was my great-grandmother's…her father bought it at auction in Paris for her debutante ball. I was suppose to give it to my wife but," he shakes his head. "I…it never felt right so I kept it and now I know why…because I was suppose to give it to you. This ring belongs to you," he shares his whole heart in this moment alone with her.

Liv lifts the lid and removes the ring, "I do not need a ring from you…I am not that girl you win at the end of the movie."

Fitz nods, "I know…but if you could just wear it…even if the worst happens…I will know that you are out there and we will be okay," he implores with pleading eyes.

"You want me to wear a ring called Doux Bebe," she taunts playfully.

He shrugs slightly, "It means Sweet Baby but you can call it whatever you want," he smiles. She stares at the ring and allows the fullness of their love to fill her. Finally she slides it onto the only digit it fits-the index finger of her left hand. He lifts her hand and places a tender kiss on top affirming their union.

Before things escalate adolescent voices announce their arrival, "Please have your hands above the waist…We already need therapy…," Karen and Gerry tease.

"Leave them alone…they have to get it in while the cameras are off" Bishop chide the sister and brother.

"Ha-ha-ha," Fitz responds sarcastically before checking his watch. "I still have twenty minutes so you may want to look away," he quips.

Olivia slaps his bicep. "Stop. Hey guys…I have something for each of you," she greets. He watches her in wonder. _How does she do it all?_ She pulls three velvet pouches from her clutch purse resting on a nearby table. "Karen, this is a replica Equal Rights Amendment pin," she attaches it to the lapel of her red cashmere winter coat. "Those women would be so proud of you," she hugs her awkwardly and Karen squeezes her tightly. "Now Ms. Bishop, this is a button from Chisholm's 1972 presidential campaign," she introduces.

"Un-bought and Un-bossed," she responds proudly with a large smile.

"That's my Girl," she offers her fist.

"And for you," she moves in front of Gerry. "This is a replica of the United States flag when California became a state…only 31 stars," she pats his shoulder a couple of times.

He looks down at his navy wool coat and back at her. _What is her angle? Does she have an angle? I do not get this at all._ "Th-anks, he stutters.

* * *

Huck moves among the throng of people. The Capital Mall is filled to capacity with eager citizens but he is on a mission. _I will keep my family safe._ He knows the routes the Secret Service will cover and anticipates the gaps the Metro Police can handle. His fear is what B6-13 can accomplish and if he is still enough to stop them. His sobriety makes him rusty but his determination pushes him forward. He darts down an alley and climbs the rusty fire escape of an old building. He breathes a sigh of relief. The lawn chair, large black duffle and red toolbox remain untouched. His phone vibrates, "What Harrison?"

"Man, where are you? I told you my tailor was going to hook you up for the ceremony."

"I am where I need to be. I am the Gladiator on the wall. You guys have a good time…I have the watch," he disconnects the call.

* * *

Abby and Olivia fall onto the couch in exhaustion. "I cannot believe we still have to find the energy for Inaugural Balls. How many are we attending?"Abby huffs and closes her eyes.

Olivia yawns, "I have no idea how many…I thought the parade would never end. I know we are all about the people," she uses air quotes, "But the enclosed, heated Presidential Box was a godsend."

Abby retreats to the kitchen and returns with bottled waters, "So I am guessing you will not be back tonight."

Liv's brow knits together, "Why would you make that assumption? We cannot have your first Press Briefing focused on a booty call."

"Do not do that…now that things are getting really real…do not sabotage the best thing to ever happen to you…that idealistic, prince charming is standing at the edge of the cliff ready, willing and able to jump. Do not make him fall for nothing," she admonishes turning to face her best friend.

"I am not…the optics. I…we need a plan," Abby cuts her off.

"You have a plan…you become First Lady. He stood on the dais in that ballroom on Election night and went all in…what are you afraid of?"

Olivia touches the inner corners of her eyes failing to stop the stinging tears, "When I am not in his arms…when he is not nearby do you know what my father's voice inside my head says?" she looks over at her friend. "Love makes you weak. How do I combat that? I am not ready for us to be over…he is the only man I have ever loved but I do not know how…not really," she confesses.

Abby squeezes her hand, "The ugly truth is he does not know how either…not completely. He spent his life under the thumb of a vile tyrant of a father and the past decade plus in a dead marriage…Neither one of you is normal and leading the free world makes things more bizarre but no less real." she encourages.

She takes a deep breath, "I can do this…we can do this…we are better together," she places her thumb on top of Doux Bebe and presses down to draw strength to move forward.

* * *

 **Inauguration night**

 **Falcon Down birthday gala dress re-purposed**

 _ **Daydreaming and I'm thinking of you…He's the kind of guy that you give your everything…Your trust your heart, share all of your love…'til death do you part…I want to be what he wants…I'm loving him a little bit more each day…It turns me right on when I hear him say…Daydreaming and I'm thinking of you…**_

Olivia turns around slowly in front of the full length mirror. The gauzy layers of white fabric float around her legs. The intricate gold and silver boning across the chest glistens under the lighting in her room. _I hope he likes the finished product._ She smiles to herself. She had never dressed for a man or cared for his opinion. Fashion was her domain; the playground where she allowed her femininity to run free. Her fingers run through her freshly straightened strands when she hears the sirens and notices blue and red lights bouncing against the dark night. She turns off her mood music. _No he did not._

The television playing at the lowest in the background confirms her suspicion…

 _ **The Presidential motorcade is making an unscheduled trip down Wisconsin Avenue through a residential neighborhood. Olivia Pope, Chief-of-Staff and First Girlfriend, is believed to reside in the area. It would appear the wait is over…Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III and Olivia Pope first public date will be the Inaugural Balls.**_

Liv grabs the coordinating evening bag and moves toward the front. She swings the door open before he can knock. Fitz's eyes drink her in slowly starting at the top of her glistening hair to her perfect goddess gown. His eyes return to her face and remain on her magnetic brown eyes. The one place he finds all her love and devotion. Before he can think or filter or reason he blurts, "Marry me…I do not want you to tell me to think about it or tell me it is too soon. I want you to say yes because if you love me even half as much as I love you then it is worth the risk…marry me Olivia Pope," he demands with passion.

Her mouth opens but she does not respond. She walks past him and on to the elevator. His stomach drops and his heart feels as though it no longer beats. He finds it hard to breath but somehow his feet follow her inside before the automatic door closes. They descend in silence. He can feel the tears and knows without a doubt her rejection will end his life. _She is my whole world._ The exit the building to bright flash of cameras and harsh voices of reporters shouting questions:

" _Who are you wearing? Look this way…What ball are you attending first? How are the kids handling the new relationship? Is this really the first official date? Will the President get a good night kiss?_

Fitz plasters on the practiced political smile and masks his face before taking a step toward the waiting Presidential limousine. He stops abruptly when Olivia moves directly in front of him placing her left hand against his chest making sure Doux Bebe makes the morning headlines. She throws her hair over her shoulder smiling brightly at the camera. She looks up at him with a flirty smile, "Yes."

He blinks trying to get his nervous system functioning again; "Yes?" he seeks reassurance. She nods with enthusiasm. He slides his arm around her waist and up her spine before dipping her backwards. He ravishes her top lip before taking his time with her bottom. He can never prove it but he honestly believes the plumpness of that lip is somehow sweeter and he will never get enough.

When he returns her to an upright position she is lightheaded and floating. She does not notice that the cameras have stopped flashing and the reporters are no longer yelling. Their unbridled passion and love renders the clamoring paparazzi mute. Fitz keeps his hand on the small of her back and guides her into the waiting car. This is the beginning of the rest of their life together.


	26. Chapter 26

**Georgia on My Mind** {Part XXVI}

 **Military Ball**

"Thank you all for coming out tonight. As your Commander-in-Chief I vow to keep you safe and never put you in harm's way unless the national security of our great nation is at risk. I along with the United States Congress and Senate will work across party lines to secure the finest resources for every single operation. I consider my service to you the greatest honor bestowed on any American citizen. Enjoy your evening," the President closes his remarks handing the microphone to the eager stage hand.

 _Announcer: Please welcome the first family…_

The opening chords swirl around Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III standing in the middle of the stage; his Brooks Brothers tuxedo showcases every sculpted muscle of his tall frame. He uses the index finger of his left hand to call Olivia from the wings. To his eyes she floats across the floor as the lyrics from the iconic singer seated behind the piano fill the large event hall decked out for the auspicious occasion…

 _ **Over time, I've been building my castle of love…Just for two, though you never knew you were my reason…Over dreams, I have picked out a perfect come true…**_

He pulls her into a tight embrace leaving absolutely no space between them and blocking out the captivated audience. "Hi," he whispers.

"Hi," she responds brushing her nose against his. _This has to be happy ever after._

He raises his arm that holds her delicate hand and twirls her body before pulling her boldly back into him. She shakes her head; "Show off," she mocks.

"I am dancing with the most beautiful woman in the world…a little more can't hurt," he replies with a wide, boyish smile.

 _ **And though you don't believe that they do…For did my dreams come true when I looked at you…**_

* * *

 **We the People Dance Party**

The First Family takes the stage for the fourth time. Olivia rests her head on Fitz chest as they glide across the stage to the recorded version of 'Overjoyed'. He feels a solid tap on his shoulder, "May I cut in?" Gerry asks with a shaky voice. The adult couple looks to each other in surprise.

"By all means Son," Fitz responds before gathering his daughter in his arms to finish the song.

Gerry carefully places one hand on Olivia's waist and she places her hand in his. He keeps a middle-school level of distance between them before speaking, "I wanted…no, I need to apologize. I'm a prick…sorry for the language. I am going to get better and I hope you give me a chance," he offers without preamble never looking at her directly.

Liv chokes on her laugh, "I think we all deserve second chances."

"Cool," he breathes a sigh of relief.

 _ **And maybe with a chance you will find…Overjoyed, over love, over you…**_

* * *

 **Hours later**

The less formal ball burst with excitement as the hottest musical artists from every genre burn up the stage with one show stopping performance after another. The largely millennial crowd of ordinary citizens including the majority of campaign staff gears up to party well into the next day.

 _The DJ calls out, "Please clear the center of the dance floor for both Dynamic Duos."_

The band starts a heavy rhythm extending the opening as Olivia, Abby, Karen and Bishop occupy the spotlight. The artist introduces the next selection, "I was honored to learn that this song was the official slumber party anthem of the campaign trail. So without further ado…"

 _ **But you and I, we're pioneers, we make our own rules…Our own room, no bias here…So gather all the rebels now, we'll rebel-rouse and sing aloud…We don't care what they say no way, no way…So hey, we brought our drum and this is how we dance…No mistakin', we make our breaks…we don't need your policies…We have no apologies for being**_

They dance as if no one is watching. Karen's blush pink chiffon gown with thin sparkling straps swings back and forth like a bell against Bishop's lilac bateau neckline gown as they bump hips to the beat. Fingers pop, hands clap, hips sway and butts bounce as the foursome snake and weave amongst each other wowing the crowd. The DJ picks up the mood and launches into a feminist manifesto play list as the chorus fades…

 _ **Find me where the wild things are (oh my, we'll be alright, don't mind us)  
Find me where the wild things are (oh my, we'll be just fine, don't mind us, yeah)**_

 _ **We will carve our place into time and space…We will find our way, or we'll make a way (say hey, hey, hey)…Find you're great, don't you hide your face…Let it shine, shine, shine, shine, shine, shine**_

* * *

 **Late night**

Fitz and Olivia stroll through the deserted hallways of the West Wing. The last two fingers of his left hand lace with the last two fingers of her right. He opens the door to the Oval Office and ushers her across the threshold with his hand on the small of her back. Her eyes drink in the room, "Look at where we are, Mr. President?" her captivated voice states the obvious.

He pulls her body against his chest grasping her waist and palming her left breast. He nuzzles her neck, "Mmm…say it again," his muffled voice commands.

She turns away from him backing further into the room, "Mr. President," she purrs seductively.

"I like that," he snatches off his tuxedo jacket and begins to remove his shirt by unbuttoning the cuffs. His eyes burn fire as he calculates all the dirty things he plans to do to her sinful body tonight.

She knows that look so she shakes her head, "We cannot…You have to stop," she attempts to admonish and reason. _I have to try to resist-a little._

"I can't stop…you are the most important person in my life. You agreed to marry me…so this is happening," he gathers her up off the floor by the waist and deposits her on the Resolute Desk. He watches her gather the layers of dress and spread her legs before pulling him into a sensuous kiss. Her fingers rake through his hair and her body surrenders to his authority. He pulls back and places one kiss after another down her body while pulling her underwear over her glorious mounds, past her thick thighs and off her heel covered feet.

Fitz stands to his full height devouring her neck and searching for the zipper on the side of her gown. Olivia makes quick work of his belt and zipper pushing his tuxedo pants off his rock hard ass. She scoots forward lifting herself just enough for him to enter her dripping core in one forceful thrust. They both strangle out an anguished moan. Their bodies move against one another relishing the connection. Before she can think or censure their love making forces the truth from her heart. She whispers in his ear, "I belong to you." Her declaration sends him into overdrive chasing her orgasm with a single minded purpose. She claws at his back raising her legs higher along his torso before succumbing to an earth shattering climax, "Fitz," she moans as her head falls back.

She tries in vain to catch her breath but he is not even close to done. He pulls out and flips her over. She uses her forearms and elbows to brace against the hard wood. He lifts her hips to meet his throbbing shaft coated with her fresh cream. He enters her from behind delivering a relentless pounding, "I belong to you…I exist for you…I am a better man for loving you," he proclaims.

* * *

 **Pre-dawn hours**

Their exhausted bodies fall back against the mattress of the four poster bed, "We are halfway through my checklist," he huffs. His ears are still red and his sweaty curls are either plastered to his forehead or stick out from all her tugging.

She laughs, "I hope this list does not include any public spaces because so far everything we accomplished may still be illegal in the fly over states or way too dirty for a sitting President," she teases.

"I disagree…I think we could earn votes on your flexibility alone," he laughs.

"Do not sell yourself short…your performance continues to be age defying. If the White House doctor knew what I know there would be no need for a physical," she turns and lays her head against his chest.

He kisses the top of her head, "Get some rest. We have a protocol briefing with Secret Service and our first transition team meeting to vet Cabinet members." He looks down when she does not respond. Her hair is a tangled mass of curls…her brow glistens with sweat and a sated smile still plays on her lips. _This is the life I always wanted._


	27. Chapter 27

**Georgia On My Mind** {Part XXVII}

Olivia slid between Fitz and the chest of drawers. She reaches over her head and sweeps her hair away from her neck with her right hand. He tosses his Navy sweatshirt aside to fasten the buttons on her white sleeveless top with the black 'Peter Pan' collar. "Stay," he whispers against the warm skin on the back of her neck before applying a chaste kiss.

She closes her eyes relishing the warm tingle his kisses always produce. "I can't…I need to be with the staff during the Security Meeting."

"Fine," he pouts. They leave the closet moving toward the den in the Residence. Fitz begins to walk her to the door when they are greeted by the groaning of the hard partying teenagers.

Gerry sports his tuxedo shirt and sweatpants, "How awake do I have to be for this?" he questions before falling into a chair.

Karen emerges from her room with a monster case of bed head, giant shades covering her eyes, wearing leggings and a 'Flawless' sweatshirt, "Who allowed the sun to burn so bright?"

The adults burst into laughter. "Looks like you had a good night," Fitz greets.

"Oh yeah…Definitely…Prom will be a total disappointment…There will be no need for a Sweet Sixteen-last night was epic," they respond between yawns.

The arrival of a Secret Service Agent interrupts the family banter. "Good morning, my name is Tom Larson and I am the assigned Lead Agent for the Grant family," he introduces.

"That's my cue…I will talk to you later," Olivia reaches for her purse to exit the room.

The agent clears his throat, "Excuse me…Ms. Pope, there must have been a mis-communication. Based on my assessment you meet the same risk threshold as the other members of the First Family; therefore, I need you to have a seat," he gestures toward the couch.

Fitz practically bounces on the balls of his feet before lowering himself onto the couch extending both arms across the back cushions with a cocky grin. He pats the spot next to him. Olivia's eyes dart back and forth between the two men before taking a seat on the far end of the couch. He smirks and shakes his head. _Stubborn Liv is hot too._

Agent Larson clears his throat, "The letter assigned to this family is R. If I may use your first names," he looks to the adolescents. They nod in agreement. Gerry your codename is Rook and Karen, your codename is Rogue. I selected two of our newer agents for your individual details. A young finely muscle-toned woman no taller than 5'5 with a crisp ponytail exits the kitchen followed by a chiseled man of at least 6'. "Please meet former Army Ranger Pilar Bautista and former Navy Seal Damien Ross," he introduces.

They stand at attention behind him and nod in greeting. Agent Larson orders without turning, "Please take your protectees to their respective rooms and cover every item on their protocol list and answer every question and address all concerns. Are we clear?"

"Yes Sir," they respond in unison.

Once they vacate the room he returns his attention toward the adults. "Ms. Pope, your codename is Royale and Mr. President your codename is Redwood. I know you both reviewed the protocol manual; however, there is a matter this is not included…the cameras," he introduces. _This will not be pretty._ "The Oval Office and West Wing corridors are monitored by video. I was on duty last night and found nothing to archive; however, I cannot work 24-7 and I only trust my team to follow established procedures," his observes the power couple as the unspoken reality registers.

Olivia and Fitz move next to each other until their thighs touch…both minds replaying the sex marathon from the previous evening. Fitz groans from his throat as Liv reaches up and slaps the back of his head. He winces, "Where aren't there cameras?"

"Within the residence, Camp David, Ms. Pope's home," the agent responds.

Olivia falls back against the couch. "Go ahead," she knows her man.

Fitz nods, "We are newly engaged but that information will only be shared with immediate family for the time being. We would appreciate your continued discretion."

"Ms. Pope's position as part of the administration provides the opportunity for maximum security. She is with you for a significant part of her day so you will share a number of agents," he explains.

She finds her voice, "Please secure soundproof partitions for the Presidential limo and SUV's."

Agent Larson's cheeks tint pink, "I submitted the request last night and the archive staff begins replacing one of a kind vases and the like with replicas in the coming weeks." _This is going to hot, wild tour of duty._

* * *

Cyrus' harsh whisper vibrates against the phone, "You owe me…you can make this disappear. I want out…you can get me out."

"I am more than confident that I have no idea who you are much less what you are talking about. Please cease and desist with this delusional harassment," the dispassionate voice on the other end of the jailhouse call responds.

"Rowan, hear me well. You do not want me vulnerable and cornered. A desperate man may decide to take crazy, unimaginable risks," Cyrus threatens.

"I agree and you would be wise to consider what actions a man with limitless power and complete anonymity is capable of," the response is harsh. There is silence, "Good luck with sentencing."

* * *

Mellie looks down at her orange jumpsuit. _Do what is necessary to survive._ "You asked to see me?" Agent Webster announces entering the interrogation room.

"Yes…thank you," she stammers. "I am prepared to cooperate…testify to whatever narrative you have for full immunity."

 _This chick is cray-cray for real._ "Ms. Vaughn, there is no narrative. We have facts, evidence and verified affidavits. I recommend you work with legal counsel to make the most of your dire situation," she explains.

"I know the players…I was on the inside," Mellie attempts to gain leverage.

"I do not know how else to make you understand. You do not have anything to enhance the investigation," Agent Webster stands and exits the room.

Mellie watches her leave searching her mind for a way out. Her red, splotchy skin reflects her desperation. _I need to throw myself on the mercy of the American people._ She decides to plead her case in the court of public opinion. She screams for the federal correction officer, "I need to make a call." Escorted by a heavily armed officer she waddles down the hallway to the bank of phones. The harsh, unfamiliar sound of metal a constant reminder of her new reality as inmate fills the silence. The chains continue to rattle as Mellie removes the phone receiver and request a collect call. "Lillian, would you like to make history? I have an exclusive but we have to act fast."

* * *

Abby enters the residence balancing a ridiculous amount of folders, "Can I get a little help?" she calls to know one in particular. Bishop rushing in catching the cascading pile before they hit the floor. "Thanks."

"Not a problem. How was the first day on the job?"

"Hectic…exhilarating and completely surreal," she replies taking in her surroundings. "I work in the White House and my best friend is half of the world's most powerful couple," she squints and shakes her head.

Bishop nods in agreement, "I feel you…last night I met some of the most powerful people on the planet including most of my celebrity crushes. How does that even happen? I mean seriously…I slept in the White House. Me, a descendent of slaves is BFF with the First Daughter."

Abby listens to the extremely young woman before her. "You know…this could all be yours someday."

"What?"

"You have it…I like to call it the 'Wonder Woman Factor'. I recognize the characteristic because my best friend has it too," she explains. Bishop shakes her head back and forth. "At some point you might doubt your abilities or underestimate your value-don't. I need you to remember this moment and believe whatever dream you have for yourself is within your reach. Do you understand?"

"I will," she nods tentatively.

"Good, I am sure that is as close to a 'Hallmark moment' as I get. You want to help me prepare to staff POTUS on picking the cabinet?"

"Uh, yeah…how else am I going to learn," she retorts.

* * *

Twenty-three staff members remain on duty well into the twilight. Agent Larson calls them together for a de-briefing. The agents on duty glance at each other with heavy lids. "I am going to state the obvious. This is not your normal administration…far from it. We can anticipate spontaneity but our best option is to prepare for the unprecedented. No one will think any less if you request a transfer now. Think long and hard because your 'A game' is the only way to serve. This administration is destined to make history and we have the privilege of a front row seat."

Laptops, phones, folders, note pads, post-its, pens, pencils, platters of food, water, juice and soda bottles litter the dining room table. Suits jackets rest against the back of chairs and high heel shoes are kicked into the corners. Harrison stands before a dry erase board covered in ranked lists flipping a marker between his fingers, "Once more for the good of the order…new staff position: Huck as the Director of Cyber-Security."

"I should not have a position…you want me invisible," he explains for the tenth time.

"We know," Harrison responds, "But we have to have a plausible explanation for the public and more importantly Congress for you to do what you do."

"I promise to make sure your office is dark, hidden and as far from the West Wing as possible…deal," Olivia interjects.

"Fine…I need a satellite phone and my own server. My firewall will block FBI, CIA and NSA…they leak too much."

Fitz smiles, "Sounds good to me…just make sure you're keeping an eye on them. Next up…Harrison as Staff Secretary. I need eyes in the back of my head and you are the best man for the job. You have access to my portfolio and with your strategic thinking we can keep the old guard out of our way."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence…speaking of which; I am working Capital Hill tomorrow to get a whip count on the 'Build America' legislation."

"Ms. Press Secretary, the tone of tomorrow's Briefing needs to be light. Announce the Cabinet short list and focus on transition process questions. You need to build as much rapport as possible before the reporters unfamiliar with you charm learn they are one question away from a bullet in the ass." Abby rolls her eyes in response.

"Livvie, what time to do we meet with Langston?"

"We do not meet with Langston…you meet with Langston-she is your Vice President," she states without looking up from her laptop. Everyone is the room scoffs. "You know what I mean. We have to keep her in the circle for at least two years and my presence even as Chief of Staff aggravates an awkward relationship."

"Fine…but I better get a reward for my good behavior," he eyes her seductively from the head of the table.

"Please wait until we are gone," Abby snaps at the ever present sexual tension in the room.

"Our bad," Fitz replies.

"Our bad," Olivia challenges, "Your bad…I am working."

Fitz brings the meeting to a close watching his team's synergy. For the first time ever he feels like he owns his life both personal and professional. _The irony…once I stopped making deals with the devil I ended up with everything I ever wanted._ A bright smile lifts his cheeks. _This is going to be great._


	28. Chapter 28

**Georgia On My Mind** {Part XXVIII}

 **Day 50**

 **Morning**

"Chairman Perez, so nice to see you," Fitz extends his hand in greeting, "I am intrigued by your request. What can I do for you today?" He gestures toward the open sofa situated just pass the Presidential Seal in the carpet.

The bespectacled gentleman returns the firm shake but his eyes are cold and his lips are set in a firm line, "Why don't we cut the crap Grant…I am disappointed but not surprised. I guess I wanted to believe your outreach efforts were sincere but unfortunately you are every bit your father's son."

Fitz bristles and a layer of base infuses his normal baritone voice, "I beg your pardon."

"Now you want to play dumb…fine. I just left Capitol Hill and Speaker Pelosi's office. The Republican Minority Leader let her know in no uncertain terms that the empowerment zones designated for African American and Latino communities would be stripped from the Build America legislation in order to secure their vote. Of course rural communities funding would see an increase. Trust me…I will not let this stand. You can try to spin all you want but you cannot put lipstick on this pig. Further, do not even attempt to use Wright or Pope as your hood pass. You are going down and I will revise my mission statement to include your total destruction."

Fitz's brain works on two levels. _Who is sabotaging the legislation? Repair the damage._ He scoots forward and faces the rightfully outraged political opponent. "Chairman Perez, I assure you no one in my administration had my authorization to alter the legislation. The language matches word for word the policy I campaigned on is still posted on my candidate website as well as the official White House policy page. Allow me time to sort this out…better yet; allow me to work with my Senior Staff for a live legislative session at the White House with the leaders of both parties."

The gentleman shoulders lean back and his head tilts in surprise, "You want to go on the record live?"

"Absolutely…I am a man of my word and every member of Congress or the Senate that pledged to vote will be held accountable."

"Fine by me…I will give you enough rope to hang yourself. I will even meet you half way by keeping this conversation confidential. Let me see what you got," he smiles. _He has some serious BDE._

"I appreciate that…I think you and I may be able to assure bipartisanship as the only way to accomplish anything during my administration," he smiles confidently.

"If you pull this off the game will forever be changed," he stands and fastens the single button on his suit jacket before exiting the room.

* * *

 **Afternoon**

Gerry and Karen climb into the back of the secure SUV. "How was your day?"

Karen exhales, "I know I am whining but I miss my bestie. I'll make friends but," she doesn't have to finish as she watches her brother nod along.

"Yeah…is it weird that I feel more connected here than I did in Cali? I just wish the other shoe wasn't going to drop at any moment."

"You mean whatever mom did during the campaign?"

He turns to look at his sister, "How bad do you think it is?"

"On a scale of 1-10…probably a 15 since MINO likes to do the most," Karen elbows his side, "There is a cool part though. Dad, Liv and the rest of the Team will take care of everything. All we have to do is be the kids. Watch…they so rock," she affirms.

"If you say so," he shrugs, "Hey, let's figure out what to order as an after-school snack to trip up the White House kitchen."

She laughs, "You are so weird…how many times to do have to fail. They are totally on to us."

"So, I think they appreciate the challenge. Not to mention whatever they did with the kiwi smoothie was awesome," he smiles. _I cannot believe I almost missed out on this life._

* * *

Abby and Olivia sit across from Agent Webster in the Communication conference room. Their eyes transfixed on the photos spread before them.

"She was wearing a strap on dick," the redhead repeats.

"A purple strap on when you inadvertently arrested her at Cyrus Beene's home," Olivia clarifies for the fifth time.

The agent sighs in exasperation, "Again…yes and eating fried chicken, Russian blue caviar, brownies and drinking some flavor of hillbilly moonshine. Can we please move forward with the remainder of this meeting?" They nod without lifting their eyes from the mug shots and arrest scene photos. "Per your request…I will attempt to limit the photos to only the mug shots but you need to prepare for the press to file Freedom of Information Requests."

Olivia and Abby look to each other and their eyes give away the game. _Protect Karen and Gerry._ "Agent Webster, my first priority is the children. May I have a twenty-four head start to prepare them for what the world will see?" Olivia pleads.

Agent Webster pauses. _What happened to calculating and demanding Olivia Pope?_ "I cannot make a guarantee but I will do my best."

* * *

 **Early evening**

Harrison enters the Oval. "You were right…we are short votes…mostly Republican but a handful of red state Democrats as well. I cannot get a straight answer," he explains while making his way to the front of the Resolute Desk.

"Thanks for the confirmation…regardless if they are dumb or their racism is convenient, conscious or unconscious I am nailing their balls to the wall and putting the rest of the party on notice. I may only get one term but I am taking as many of those vile, cynical hacks down before my tenure ends," Fitz spews.

"Make it do what it do Mr. President," he offers his fist in solidarity. "By the way I received a cryptic message from a journalist requesting an off the record interview with you. Are you familiar with a Lillian Forrester?"

Fitz brow wrinkles and his eyes squint, "Vaguely but why would she make a request to your office and not submit through the normal Communication's Office?"

"Shady…Scared of Red," they respond simultaneously. Harrison offers a side-eye. _Aren't they all?_

"Do me a favor…check it out and then we can determine how best to present the information to our Dynamic Duo," he requests.

"We both know how…with a ten foot pole. Secret Service is terrified of 'em individually much less together and those folks are trained and armed."

"Well they are our beautiful burdens so let's strap on some pads and hope we come out the other side."

"True that."

* * *

 **Bedtime**

Fitz gasps for air through his laughter, "Seriously, last time…describe Mellie."

Olivia looks down at him from her reclined position on the bed propped up by pillows. Her sheer baby doll night gown bunches at her waist displaying a delicious amount of brown thigh. Fitz wears a plain grey t-shirt and a pair of snug black boxer briefs collapsed into uncontrollable laughter during his push up session.

She snorts barely holding her laugh, "I am telling you she had a purple, strap on dildo. Now I do not know if they were getting it in on the regular or she is exploring but it was her accessory during the perp walk." The room quiets. "Fitz," she trails off.

"Sorry…I am wondering when she got it and where she kept it at the ranch?" he pulls himself from the floor and climbs onto the bed to lie next to her propped up on his elbow. "Hmm…we had separate rooms after a few years and then separate wings," he muses using his finger tips to explore her inner thigh. He turns to Olivia, "You think the staff ever stumbled across her special friend," he rises up to a sitting position using his hands to make air quotes.

The apples of Liv's cheeks raise and giggles roll from her throat, "You are horrible."

He sobers, "I don't want Karen or Gerry to have deal with that image. The trial will be more than enough collateral damage."

She straddles his lap, "Abby and I have a counter punch ready to launch and an emergency plan if things get really bad. They will have their normal," she affirms.

Fitz looks up at the determination dancing in her eyes, "I do not deserve you."

"I beg to differ…we deserve each other but feel free to thank me in as many positions as possible," she flirts.

"With pleasure," he smiles sliding his arm up her back before rolling them over on the bed to devour her neck with deep, sensual kisses.


	29. Chapter 29

**Georgia on my Mind** {Part XXIX}

 **Day 75**

 **Morning**

Olivia enters the grandiose executive office suite. She turns swiftly, "Wait at the end of the hallway," she commands.

"Ma'am, there are specific protocols…," Agent Russell recites. Liv offers an unimpressed glare. "Agent Larson expects me," he continues and she places her hand on her hip and tightens her grip around the straps of her Prada bag. He sighs in frustration, "Ma'am, President Grant will personally place a bullet in my head if any harm comes to his family. Can we please find a way to work together?"

 _Of course he would do the most._ "I appreciate your situation but I cannot do my job the way I need to do my job with you hovering. I take full responsibility but more importantly I will speak with the Commander in Chief. Now for the last time…wait at the end of the hallway," she demands.

Agent Russell counters, "The best I can do is outside the door." She nods in agreement as he signals the other agents and takes up post.

* * *

"Olivia Pope…do what do I owe the honor?" Leo Bergen greets rising from behind the chaos of his desk.

"I come bearing gifts," she hands him a thick Pendaflex bonded fastener folder.

"Are you trying to recruit me into your merry band of henchmen?"

"Not in the least. Suffice it to say a number of Congress members may become vulnerable to primary challenges. Why let the Susan Ross victory be a one off?" she challenges.

Leo flips through each section and his brows rise, "These are long-standing incumbents…some from extremely safe seats."

She turns and retreats speaking over her shoulder, "Let the word go forth…this is a new day and the Grant Administration does not play."

* * *

 **Afternoon**

"Harrison, are we ready?"

"Yes Mr. President. Abby stashed the reporters in the bullpen and contacted the local affiliates for each prospective no vote. The major networks await our signal to interrupt scheduled programming."

They enter the East Room and Fitz greets each member of Congress. The atmosphere is cold. Harrison stands post at the door prepared to signal the Communication Office. Fitz takes a seat and the participants follow his lead. "I understand there is reluctance to follow through on your campaign promise to vote in favor of the current infrastructure legislation. I am here in good faith to negotiate and secure a yes vote."

The various members share furtive glances before Senator King of Iowa speaks up, "Mr. President, we can speak in specifics but we need to address the real reason you do not have the votes you need."

"I am listening." Harrison sends a text message and the note takers enter the back of the room.

"We are men and women of principle and the new direction you have suggested for our party is not consistent with the Judeo-Christian founding fathers of this nation. The language regarding guest workers and affordable housing benefits immigrants and the low income without minimum work requirements or drug testing. While there are exceptions to every rule…for example: former Congressmen Watts, Senator Scott of South Carolina and on occasion former RNC Chair Steele the hue of your new outreach voters, some members of your administration and unfortunately the possible new First Lady are not reflective of our core constituency. Your former wife understood the fundamentals; maybe she could play a role in the administration…behind the scenes of course."

Fitz clenches his jaw exhaling deeply as his nostrils flare, "Let's begin," he responds deliberately ignoring the racist bile spewed. _I hope they enjoy their last few votes._

* * *

 **Evening**

Lillian Forrester paces around the Oval Office taking notice of the items on display: historical paintings of former presidents, busts of historical figures, and various antiques. She stops and looks behind the desk: family photos of the Grant children at different ages. The images that give her pause are the numerous candid photographs from the campaign trail of him and his team. There is one consistent face…the message is clear: Olivia Pope is the center of his world. She takes a deep breath. _I can flip this in my favor._

"Ms. Forrester, thank you for your patience. I understand you were interested in an exclusive interview…the man behind the presidency-correct," he states crossing the threshold.

She extends her arm for a handshake that she holds far too long, "Thank you for taking the meeting." Fitz gestures for her take a seat. She waits until he sits before taking the spot on the opposite end of the couch he selects. "I have a great deal of respect for how you handled your tumultuous campaign; and if I am honest…a lingering crush," she smiles coyly. She looks up to measure his response. His face is unreadable and his body language does not offer a single clue.

He finally speaks in a crisp professional tone, "May I ask why you did not make your request through the Communication Office?"

Lillian pushes the hair behind her right ear, "I admit," she giggles. "I called in a favor…does that make me a bad girl?" she flirts.

"No, you are a grown woman who is unprofessional," he snaps.

She sobers. _Execute plan B._ "Well, after I share the information from my interviews with your former wife you may change your mind about my discretion."

Tension stiffens his spine but his face radiates confidence, "I can only assume these interviews were conducted during visiting hours from the federal prison or after her release to house arrest?"

"She has quite the story to tell…about you, the children; and your dear, departed father. Surely we can work out a favorable outcome for the Grant legacy and my career. Meet a few personal requests to sweeten the deal and we are in business."

Fitz stands quickly and buttons the single button on his navy blue pinstriped Brooks Brother suit. "Please follow me," he gestures to the left. She trots behind him to keep up with his long strides. He enters his working office retrieves a remote and turns on the television. They chyron at the bottom of the screen reads: Breaking News.

Silent she takes in the block print scrolling across the monitor: Racist Republicans attempt to extort President Grant. The evening anchor introduces the segment:

 _ **The Grant Administration released a full transcript…local reporters are camped outside the home offices of each member of the House of Representatives or Senate…The message is clear…Do not come for this President**_

He turns slowly and watches her disassemble, "Please leave every piece of evidence, recordings, notes, your calendar and any other item associated with your time with Mellie Vaughn on the table. I will take your temporary press pass," he holds out his hand.

She trembles but complies. "Mr. President," she stammers.

He holds up his hand to stop her. "Save it…your career is over; never to be resurrected. Your only saving grace is that I am handling this and not the beautiful, brilliant but exceedingly deadly woman in my life." She swallows thickly. "Tom," he bellows. "Please show Ms. Forrester out of the White House and assign an agent to prepare a report when she is out of Washington, D.C."

* * *

 **Late night**

Olivia paces in the bedroom. She is half dressed in only a bra and the pants from her suit. Every few feet she pauses and stares at Fitz before resuming her steps. "Are you ever going to respond?" he questions.

"Respond," she nods slowly. "Where to begin…even in an orange jumpsuit with basic let's make a plea deal legal counsel the devil's shit ball thinks she has cards to play. Or should I start with that stringy-haired, flat behind wannabe Barbara Walters offering her briar patch crotch," she snaps.

"Wow…I did ask. Can I ask you to focus on the fact that we handled the situation?"

"You can ask," he interrupts her sentence.

"We can be angry or we can be strategic. Let's be strategic."

"Fine," she resumes pacing. "We need to prepare the kids."

Fitz picks up her train of thought, "We turn over the information and evidence from today to Agent Webster and she accelerates prosecution."

Olivia nods, "I hate this for them but…"

He reaches out and pulls her to stand between his legs from his spot sitting on the side of the bed. "The outcome from Mellie's choices was never going to be pretty but together…you and I can make the best of a bad situation…teach them to be stronger."

She exhales, "That…I can do."


End file.
